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LIBRARY 

OF  THK 

University  of  California. 


GIFT    OF 


KuU^Jcl  «4  ftt,  CP<dHieV 


Class 


By  ETHNA  CARBERY, 

THE   FOUR   WINDS   OF   EIRINN  : 

Poems:  with  Portrait  of  the  Author. 

THE    PASSIONATE    HEARTS  :    Love  Stories. 

Each  Book  costs  1  -  in  stiff  paper  covers ;  2  -  in  Irish  Linen. 

From  M.  H.  GILL  &  SON,  50  Upr.  O'Connell  St.,  Dublin. 

"Her  Works  will  live  after  her  for  all  time." — United  Irithman. 

"  Seldom,  if  ever,  has  the  most  potent  of  passions  been  painted  with  more 
beauty  and  power." — Daily  Independent. 

"One  copy  of  such  a  book  as  "Thk  Four  Wiwds  of  Eibiwn,"  is  enough  to 
light  many  unseen  fires,  Ethna  Carbery  possesses  a  simplicity  of  thought  and 
diction  foreign  to  the  most  subtle  of  contemporary  poets. — Fiona  Mac  Leod, 
in  the  Fortnightly  Review. 

"  Ethna  Carbery's  poems  place  her  in  the  front  rank  of  the  Irish  Poets  of 
to-day. — Daily  Chronicle. 

"  Her  Stories  come  with  a  sense  of  revelation."— Glasgow  Herald. 

"  Pull  of  enthusiasm  and  exaltation." — Manchester  Guardian. 

"  She  wrote  in  prose  scarcely  less  beautiful  than  her  poems."— Irith  2few». 


Tn  tbe  .  . 
Celtic  Past. 


STORIES  BY  ANNA  MacMANUS 
(ETHNA  CARBERY),  .  .  . 
AUTHOR  OF  •«  THE  FOUR 
WINDS  OF  EIRINN,"  AND 
«  THE  PASSIONATE  HEARTS." 


FUNK  &  WAGNALLS 
COMPANY,  Publishers, 
NEW  YORK. 


I ' 


In  her  high,  bright    noontide 
The  shadows  fell  upon 
ETHNA  CARBERY      .      .      . 
At  Easter,  1902 


to  you  in;heaven— 

When  your  head  once  lay  on  my  breast, 
And  your  hand  was  closed  in  my  hand, 

You  drew  back  the  veil  from  your  soul 
And  asked  could  I  understand. 

The  letters  that  flamed  in  gold  flame 
On  its  virgin  whiteness  I  scanned — 

"  I  love  you,  I  love  you,  0  Love  " — 
And  I  whispered,  I  understand. 

I  thought  I  did.    Foolish  we  be! 

I,  in  Sorrow's  intense  solitude 
Where  the  dread  hours  drag  into  ages, 

Fared  far  ere  I  understood. 

Yesternight  I  lifted  wet  eyes 
To  the  stars,  that  were  as  the  sands, 

And  cried,  0,  my  God !  it  is  now, 
Only  now,  that  my  soul  understands. 

SEUMAS. 


235563 


CONTENTS 


The  Sorrowing  of  Conal  Cearnach 
The  Travelling  Scholars 
Pursuit  of  Diarmuid  and  Grainne 
The  Death  of  Diarmuid  O'Dubhine 
The  Shearing  of  the  Fairy  Fleeces 
The  King  of  Ireland's  Death-Place 


page 
9 

23 

31 
61 

77 

87 


How  Oisin  Convinced  Patrick  the  Cleric      95 

The  Last  Battle  of  Iliach  of  the  Clanna 

Rury        103 


The  Red  Whistler  ... 


113 


Cbe  SorroiDind  of  conal 
CeansacJ). 


The  Sorrowing  of  Conal  Cearnach. 

THE  autumn  night  had  set  in  with  a  dreary  darkness 
full  of  the  howling  of  angry  winds  that  swept  up 
from  the  sea,  and  flung  clouds  of  salt  foam  even 
to  the  crest  of  the  gray  cliffs  that  stood  sentinel  over 
the  Northern  coast  of  Uladh.  White  screaming  flocks 
of  seagulls  darted  inland,  flying  low,  as  is  their  wont 
when  the  storm-fiend  comes  to  take  his  pleasure;  and  in 
scanty  hedge  or  stunted  fir-tree  the  little  timid  land- 
birds  cowered  before  the  blast.  The  air  held  the  chill 
of  coming  winter;  the  moaning  waters  seemed  to  chant 
a  dirge  for  all  the  dead  whose  bones  lay  far  beneath 
among  the  weeds  and  wrecks  and  tossing  shells;  and 
overhead  the  thick  clouds  went  drifting  by  without  the 
glimmer  of  a  single  star  to  light  the  gloom,  while, 
through  this  maze  of  storm  and  darkness,  with  sorrow 
in  his  heart  and  on  his  brow,  after  his  many  and 
perilous  wanderings  over  distant  countries,  Conal 
Cearnach,  the  chieftain  of  Dunseverick,  and  Champion 
of  the  Red  Branch  Knights  of  Uladh,  came  back  to  his 
own. 

But  though  the  storm  might  sport  and  rave  in  ecstacy 
as  it  circled  the  open  coast-line,  it  seemed  to  shriek  its 
madness  round  the  towers  of  the  Caiseal,  which  stood 
but  a  short  way  from  the  brink  of  a  tall  cliff  that  sheered 
straight  down  into  the  foaming  wild  water.  It  hissed 
and  swirled  through  the  broad  open  chimney  of  the 
banqueting  hall,  scattering  the  flames  in  the  heart  of  the 
glowing  logs  piled  high  upon  the  hearth,  and  sending 


'  ••• 

12  IN    THE   CELTIC    PAST. 

showers  of  light  peat  ashes  almost  to  the  feet  of  Conal 
Cearnach  himself,  who,  sitting  silent  in  his  carven  chair 
of  dark  oak,  with  mournful  eyes  gazing  steadily  at  the 
leaping  fire,  heeded  neither  the  rattle,  as  each  fresh 
gust  hurled  itself  against  the  timbers  of  the  walls,  nor 
the  chanting  of  his  harper,  nor  yet  the  sweet  voice  of 
his  lady  as  she  strove  to  win  him  from  the  bitter 
thoughts  that  held  him  in  that  sad  and  woeful  quietude. 
Many  and  melodious  were  the  strains  by  which  the 
harper  sought  to  rouse  his  master;  now  soft  and  silvery 
as  the  thrush's  warble  in  the  glow  of  a  mellow  summer 
eve;  anon  bursting  into  loud  and  triumphant  pealing 
like  the  return  of  a  victor  army  from  the  field  of  conflict, 
and  again  sinking  into  melting  harmony  as  when  a 
mother  croons  at  slumber-hour  above  the  baby  on  her 
bosom.  Clear  and  tuneful  the  song  rose  with  the  harp- 
music,  telling  of  Conal  Cearnach 's  wonderful  and 
world-enduring  feats;  of  his  manly  beauty  and  his 
valour;  of  his  loyalty  to  friend  and  vengefulness  to  foe, 
of  all  the  glorious  attributes  that  had  raised  him  to  the 
Champion's  place  in  the  Court  of  the  Red  Branch,  and 
won  him  renown  at  home  and  afar  as  the  flower  of 
Uladh's  matchless  chivalry.  Loudly  and  proudly  did 
the  music-maker  chant  the  death  of  Misgedhra,  the 
great  soldier,  slain  single-handed  in  a  trial  of  skill  by 
the  Chieftain  of  Dunseverick.  Solemnly  he  related  the 
making  of  the  brain-ball  of  that  valiant  fighter,  and 
how  the  dead  had  been  revenged  upon  Uladh  after- 
wards, when  this  ghastly  trophy,  that  belonged  to 
Conal  Cearnach  by  right  of  prowess,  and  was  lodged 
for  safety  in  the  royal  palace  of  Crovdearg,  passed  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy  through  the  hands  of  a  fool,  and 
brought  about  the  gravest  sorrow  under  which  Uladh 
had  ever  bowed,  in  the  death  of  her  gifted  and  noble 


THE    SORROWING   OF    CONAL   CEARNACH.  13 

ruler  Conor  Mac-Nessa.  And  as  he  sang  the  death- 
lament  for  Conor,  the  warriors  ranged  all  down  the 
long  hall  took  up  the  strain,  and  mingled  their  praise 
and  regret  for  the  kingly  king  with  the  twanging  of  the 
harp  until  the  sob  of  the  wind  seemed  hushed  outside 
and  the  hissing  of  the  waters  died  away.  Then  in  the 
distant  chamber  of  the  Lady  of  Dunseverick  her  wait- 
ing women  and  maidens,  hearing  this  weird  and 
mournful  chanting,  took  up  the  caoine,  and  shrilled  the 
dead  man's  praises  with  clapping  of  palms  and  rending 
of  hair,  until,  in  sooth,  throughout  the  Caiseal  from 
end  to  end  no  sounds  but  those  of  grief  and  dismay 
echoed  on  this  the  return-night  of  the  Chieftain.  Once, 
and  once  only,  was  his  brooding  gaze  lifted,  and  his 
brows  arched,  not  in  anger,  but  in  surprise,  as  he  asked 
curiously — 

."  Wherefore  this  clamour  in  my  halls  to-night? 
There  seems  but  storm  without  and  storm  within,  and 
it  vexeth  me.      Hush  ye,  hush  ye,  my  people." 

The  harper  rose,  flushing  red  because  of  the  reproof, 
and  vouchsafed  a  reply. 

"  It  was  the  death-lament  for  Conor  the  King  we 
sang,  my  honoured  lord,  and  inasmuch  as  he  hath  died 
but  a  short  time  since,  we  feared  you  sorrowed  for  him 
in  silence.  And  because  our  battle-strains  or  strains 
of  love  have  been  powerless  to  win  you  from  your  grief, 
in  our  affection  we  have  fallen  in  with  this  mood,  and 
have  joined  in  your  regrets.  The  death  he  died  was  a 
strange  one,  and  unknown  in  all  the  annals  of  the 
land." 

"I,  too,  have  looked  on  death,"  said  Conal  Cearnach, 
slowly  and  reverently,  still  gazing  into  the  burning 
brightness  on  the  hearth,  "but  not  such  a  death  as  a 
King  of  Eirinn  might  die.     Nay,  'twas  such  as  only  a 


14  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

God  could  endure  and  make  no  moan.  A  great  end 
and  a  terrible.  Yet  the  divine  pity  in  His  eyes  bore 
naught  but  forgiveness  for  those  who  tortured  Him, 
and  their  dying  glory  hath  made  me  His  slave  for 
ever. ' ' 

44  My  lord,  my  lord,"  pleaded  his  wife,  rising  and 
clasping  her  white  arms  round  his  neck,  4< put  these 
haunting  thoughts  away,  I  pray  thee,  and  turn  to  the 
feast  where  thy  kin  and  clan  await  to  give  thee  welcome 
home.  Tell  us  how  thou  didst  bear  thyself  at  Rome, 
and  of  thy  wrestling  feats  in  those  far  distant  cities. 
Thou  wert  champion  swordsman  there  as  well  as  here, 
my  love  and  brave  knight,  were  thou  not?  They  in- 
deed had  courage  who  accepted  the  challenge  of  Conal 
Cearnach  and  strove  to  match  their  strength  with  his. 
Sad  for  Ceat  was  the  day  when  he  met  thee;  he  that 
was  ever  a  champion  of  renown.  Sing,  harper,  sing 
the  death  of  Ceat,  son  of  Magach  of  Connacht,  that 
my  lord  may  remember  only  his  own  great  fame  and 
forget  this  grief  that  holds  him  enchained." 

Once  more  the  harper  ran  his  fingers  across  the 
strings,  breaking  into  high,  proud  chanting.  The  oft- 
told  tale,  ever  new  because  of  their  joy  in  it,  brought  a 
glint  of  battle-fury  into  the  eyes  of  all  those  listening 
warriors.  Only  the  Chieftain  heeded  not,  though  well 
he  might  have  gloried  in  that  marvellous  recital.  How 
Ceat  came  out  of  Connacht  to  fight  the  stoutest  cham- 
pions of  Uladh,  and  how  he  slew  three  of  them,  one  by 
one,  in  single  combat.  And  setting  forth  with  their 
heads  as  trophies  to  show  to  his  own  people  he  was 
pursued  by  the  Chieftain  of  Dunseverick  and  overtaken 
at  Athceitt.  Then  the  bloodiest  and  most  furious 
combat  that  had  ever  been  known  in  Eirinn  took  place 
between  these  two.     Shields  were  pierced  and  swords 


THE  SORROWING  OF  CONAL  CEARNACH.        15 

were  hacked,  and  many  men  died  that  day,  but  it  was 
left  to  the  two  champions  to  decide  the  issue  of  war. 
And  the  victory  was  with  Uladh,  for  after  many  most 
wonderful  exploits  Ceat  of  Connacht  fell  by  the  hand  of 
Conal  Cearnach,  who,  pierced  with  wounds,  lay  well- 
nigh  dead  himself  upon  the  field.  The  song-  told  how 
Conal  was  carried  into  Connacht  by  Bealchue  Breifne 
and  tended  until  his  strength  was  restored  to  him,  when, 
for  fear  of  his  strong  arm  and  following,  his  host 
sought  to  put  the  Ultonian  to  death,  repenting  that  he 
had  saved  him.  How  Conal  baffled  the  treacherous 
schemers,  and  made  his  way  back  into  Uladh,  all  was 
chanted,  and  chorused  and  cheered.  But  still  the  hero 
sat  silent,  taking  no  pride,  as  of  yore,  in  his  own  ex- 
ploits, and  slowly  the  voices  sank,  the  harping  ended 
in  a  few  faint  silvery  echoes,  and  all  grew  mournful 
because  of  the  brooding  eyes  of  their  lord. 


This  was  the  vision  that  Conal  Cearnach  saw  in  the 
heart  of  the  fire  that  night  of  his  return  to  Dunseverick. 

He  saw  himself  at  the  beginning  of  this,  the  most 
curious  adventure  that  had  yet  befallen  him,  setting 
forth  with  a  strong,  well-chosen  band,  on  a  foray  into 
Britain,  a  country  lying  beyond  a  narrow  sea  to  the 
east  of  the  land  of  Eirinn.  Many  were  the  tales  that 
had  reached  his  ears  and  the  ears  of  other  warriors  of 
Uladh  concerning  the  descent  of  the  mighty,  world- 
famed  Romans  upon  this  island;  how  they  had  ex- 
hibited to  the  people  their  much-vaunted  feats  of 
athletic  skill  until  the  report  of  their  daring  and  courage 
had  penetrated  the  Court  of  Emania. 

What  wonder  that  the  war-like,  hot  blood  of  Conal 
Cearnach    pulsed    to  hear    the   deeds   of   the    Roman 


16  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

soldiers,  that  he  longed  to  try  his  strength  with  theirs 
on  battle  field  or  in  the  field  of  sport.  And  when  he 
had  come  amongst  them,  and  they  noted  his  great 
height,  his  agile  limbs,  and  the  muscles  that  swelled 
adown  the  length  of  his  powerful  arms,  their  admira- 
tion and  awe  of  him  surpassed  all  bounds.  Easily  did 
he  overthrow  the  stalwart  wrestlers  sent  from  the 
Roman  ranks  against  him;  easily  did  he  bear  away  the 
victor's  palm  at  the  hurling  of  weights  and  enormous 
stones;  and  more  easily  still  did  he  excel  their  highest 
leaps  by  the  swift-darting  of  his  strong  and  beautiful 
body.  Then,  ere  their  exclamations  had  time  to  die 
away,  he  rose  once  more  into  the  air  in  his  last  and 
most  marvellous  feat — the  salmonsault;  shooting  up 
like  that  great  fish  from  a  river,  turning  over  in  his 
flight  once  and  twice,  and  coming  down  to  earth  again 
as  surely  and  as  swiftly  as  the  salmon  might  dive  into 
the  broad  river  from  which  it  had  sprung  so  boldly. 

But  envy  as  well  as  admiration  grew  in  the  hearts  of 
the  Romans,  and  they  said,  M  Wert  thou  in  our  arena 
at  Rome  thou  had'st  met  thy  master,  all  powerful  as 
thou  art,  O  Conal.  Come  with  us  for  thy  fame's  sake, 
that  thou  may'st  have  tales  to  tell  thy  children  when 
the  gray  is  on  thy  hair — if  our  gladiators  let  thee  live  so 
long."  And  the  Lord  of  Dunseverick  took  up  the 
challenge,  sailing  from  Britain  in  the  company  of  these 
world-compelling  foreigners,  far  from  his  northern 
home  and  loving  clansmen. 

Then  the  vision  changed,  and  he  seemed  to  see  again 
the  wide  arena  and  the  crowds  of  eager  faces  that 
watched  the  mighty  wrestlers  as  they  strained  and 
struggled,  tight  locked  in  each  other's  embrace.  He 
felt  the  long  arms  of  the  huge  gladiator  go  round  him 
like  a    ring    of    steel — a  grand   and  gigantic  figure  of 


THE  SORROWING  OF  CONAL  CEARNACH.       1/ 

equal  height  with  himself,  to  whom  victory  would  have 
come  readily  had  his  opponent  been  other  than  the 
flower  of  the  Red  Branch  Chivalry.  Across  the  arena 
they  wrestled,  now  on  foot,  now  bent  on  knee,  sending 
showers  of  sand  high  into  the  air,  while  cries  of  praise 
or  blame  broke  from  thousands  of  throats,  aye,  and 
from  Imperial  Caesar  too,  as  the  Roman  strove  to  end 
the  contest.  But  the  battle-fury  had  fallen  upon  Conal, 
as  it  fell  on  him  what  time  he  slew  the  King  of  Leinster 
at  Atha-Cliath,  and  he  put  forth  suddenly  his  own  re- 
nowned strength  for  the  final  wrestle.  He  noted  how 
a  tremor  of  strained  agony  then  ran  through  the  frame 
of  the  other;  how  his  blood-shot  eye-balls  rolled,  and 
the  beads  of  sweat  gathered  on  brow  and  cheek  until 
his  bones  creaked  under  the  stress  of  the  champion's 
hold,  and  his  lifeless  head  fell  backwards  over  his 
crushed  and  blackened  shoulder.  And  Conal  wore  that 
day  upon  his  ruddy  head  the  palm-crown  of  the  victor. 
Again  the  vision  shifted  and  changed,  and  he  saw 
himself  the  comrade  of  a  band  of  centurions,  who  had 
journeyed  over  land  and  sea  in  peaceful  wise  to  the 
populous  and  glowing  cities  of  the  East.  It  was  after- 
noon of  a  certain  day  when  they  reached  Jerusalem,  the 
city  of  the  Jews,  a  strange  day  and  a  fearful,  for  the 
sun  hung  like  a  ball  of  fire  in  the  heavens,  and  the  air 
was  filled  with  the  noise  of  shouting  men  and  the  wail- 
ing of  women.  Past  the  bare  and  brown  synagogues 
the  strangers  went,  following  in  the  track  of  hurrying 
crowds  that  stayed  not  for  question  or  reply,  -  o  intent 
were  they  on  the  purpose  that  drew  them  onward. 
Here  and  there  a  group  of  women  talked  in  whispers, 
pausing  at  sight  of  the  Romans  and  the  splendidly-clad 
chieftain  of  Uladh,  whose  like  they  had  never  gazed 
upon  before.      For  Conal   Cearnach   wore   his   wide- 


18  IN    THE   CELTIC    t>ASf. 

spreading  scarlet  cloak,  fastened  with  a  large  brooch 
of  gold,  across  his  breast,  and  his  ruddy  hair  fell  down 
in  many  plaits  to  his  broad  shoulders,  each  plait  being 
tied  at  the  end  by  a  string  and  tiny  ball  of  gold  His 
short  trimmed  beard  was  ruddy  as  his  hair,  his  cheeks 
were  like  an  apple  when  the  sun  hath  kissed  it,  and  his 
blue  bright  eyes,  keen-glancing,  drew  the  eyes  of  all  to 
look  at  him. 

And  the  Jewish  women  hushed  their  talk  as  he  came 
up  the  way  to  marvel  at  his  height  and  grandeur,  and  it 
was  then  that  the  centurions,  seeking  speech  •  f  them, 
learned  what  had  so  disturbed  the  wonted  customs  of 
the  city. 

M  It  is  One  whom  they  go  to  crucify  on  Golgotha," 
said  the  women.  M  A  Man  who  hath  called  Himself 
the  Son  of  God,  and  we  know  not  if  the  deed  they  do  be 
just  or  wise." 

"  What  crime  hath  He  done?" 

11  Nay,  no  crime,  unless  crime  it  be  to  raise  the  dead 
to  life,  or  restore  sight  to  the  blind,  or  hearing  to  the 
deaf,  or  give  strength  to  the  lame  and  feeble,  and  com- 
fort to  the  sad  of  heart.  All  this  He  hath  done,  for  we 
have  seen  it;  and  there  are  many  who  have  followed 
Him  in  the  belief  that  He  is  the  long-looked-for 
Messiah,  whom  the  prophets  have  foretold." 

"  And  is  it  for  this  the  Jews  have  given  Him  to 
death?" 

"  Yea,"  answered  the  women,  "and  because  that  He 
hath  spoken  of  the  Kingdom  of  His  Father  and  of  Him- 
self as  King  of  the  Jews." 

1 '  Then  He  deserves  death  for  that  saying, ' '  cried  the 
Centurions,  "  for  Caesar,  and  Caesar  alone,  is  your 
king.     We  go  to  see  Him  die.    What  name  hath  He?" 

"Jesus  of  Nazareth." 


THE    SORROWING   OF    CONAL   CEARNACH.  19 

Up  the  steep  stony  road  that  led  to  Calvary  Conal 
Cearnach  went  with  his  Roman  companions.  Here 
and  there  he  noted  drops  of  blood  upon  the  pathway, 
as  they  hastened  onward  with  such  speed  that  the 
crowds  gave  way  before  them,  and  the  little  black-eyed 
Jewish  children  drew  aside  from  their  course  in  terror. 
Once  they  stopped  before  a  weeping  woman,  shrouded 
in  a  long  dark  cloak,  across  whose  knees  as  she  sat  was 
stretched  a  blood-stained  towel,  upon  which  her  tears 
fell  thick  as  rain,  and  over  which  many  people  were 
bending.  Then  they  saw  that  the  towel  bore  the  im- 
press in  lines  of  blood  of  a  most  sad  and  weary  Face — 
11  the  Face  of  Him  Who  is  being  crucified,"  said  a  by- 
stander, in  answer  to  their  looks  of  wonder.  "  This 
woman  wiped  the  sweat  from  His  Brow  as  He  passed 
by,  and  His  Face  is  here  as  a  memento  of  Him  whom 
Pilate  hath  called  l  that  just  Man.'  " 

Into  the  soul  of  Conal  the  hot  anger  came  rushing 
as  he  broke  away  from  the  centurions  and  sped  like  a 
blast  of  wind  towards  the  mount  where  the  people  had 
assembled.  One  thought  filled  his  mind,  "  Shall  I  be 
nigh  and  witness  the  torture  of  this  Man,  whose  only 
crime  hath  been  the  good  that  He  hath  done?  Nay,  it 
were  not  known  in  Emania  that  many  should  fall  upon 
one;  it  is  the  trial  of  single  combat  we  give  even  to  our 
enemies.  I  shall  be  His  champion  to  the  death  if  He 
will  take  me  for  such." 

Yet,  alas,  and  alas  !  it  was  a  bleeding  and  dying 
Christ  that  hung  upon  the  cross  when  the  Chieftain  of 
Dunseverick  drew  near  and  stood  beneath.  And  as  he 
gazed  in  horror  at  the  dastard  deed,  a  soldier  coming 
up  in  haste  pierced  the  Victim's  side  with  a  spear  so  that 
the  Blood  shot  forth  and  trickled  down  the  rough  wood 
upon  which  they  had  nailed  Him.     And  a  drop  touched 


20  IN    THE   CELTIC    PAST. 

the  brow  of  Conal  Cearnach  ere  he  knew,  and  the  fury 
left  him  for  a  marvellous  and  unwonted  peace  while  he 
watched  the  Saviour  die.  Then  rocks  were  rent  and 
graves  opened,  so  that  the  dead  came  forth  in  their 
cerements  in  that  most  awful  hour;  and  lightnings 
flashed  from  the  black  thick  clouds  that  had  suddenly 
covered  the  sky,  and  all  was  dread  and  unearthly,  so 
that  the  people  shrieked  and  crouched  upon  the  ground 
repentant  and  sore  afraid. 

44  It  was  indeed  a  God  who  died,"  said  the  chieftain 
sadly  and  slowly,  44  this  cruel  and  untimely  death.  My 
grief,  oh  !  my  bitter  grief,  that  the  Red  Branch  Knights 
are  afar,  else  a  sure  and  fierce  revenge  would  overtake 
these  Jews,  aye,  their  city  should  be  levelled  and  their 
name  effaced  had  the  chivalry  of  Uladh  been  here  this 
day  with  sword  and  skian  and  blue-black  lance  to  hold 
the  battle  straight  with  me."  "• 


This  was  the  memory  that  Conal  Cearnach  dwelt 
upon  the  night  he  returned  through  storm  and  dark- 
ness, after  many  wanderings,  to  his  Caiseal  of  Dun- 
severick  on  the  bleak  sea-swept  Northern  coast  of 
Uladh, 

Note. — The  tradition  that  Conal  Cearnach  of  Dunseverick 
was  present  at  Jerusalem  on  the  day  of  the  Crucifixion  is  still 
preserved  amongst  the  peasantry  of  the  Glens  of  Antrim.  1  have 
never  been  able  to  find  a  written  record  of  this,  save  in  a  note 
to  the  "Wars  of  the  Gaedhil  and  the  Gall,"  which  merely  men- 
tions the  legend.  It  is  also  said  that  Conal  was  at  the  burial 
of  Christ  as  well,  and  that  he  put  his  shoulder  to  raise  the  lid 
of  the  sepulchre  when  Joseph  of  Arimathea  made  it  ready  for 
the  reception  of  the  Body  of  our  Lord.  Taking  it  for  granted 
that  this  Champion  of  the  Red  Branch  Knights  did  actually 
exist  so  long  ago,  we  can  well  believe  in  his  journey  to  Rome 


THE    SORROWING   OF    CONAL   CEARNACH. 


21 


with  the  Romans  who  had  landed  in  Britain,  and  his  subse- 
quent feats  in  the  Arena,  and  his  further  travels  throughout  the 
the  Holy  Land.  It  was  decreed  that  a  representative  of  every 
race  on  the  earth  should  be  present  at  the  Death  upon  Mount 
Calvary,  and  the  tradition  that  has  been  lovingly  entwined 
around  the  heroic  name  of  the  Chieftain  of  Dunseverick  ought 
to  be  known  and  treasured  by  the  Irish  people.  Dunseverick 
lies  on  the  northern  coast  of  County  Antrim,  not  far  from 
Portrush. 


CDc  €ra wiling  scholars. 


The  Travelling  Scholars. 

UPON  the  wind-swept  bosom  of  Loch  Lein,  in  the 
Kingdom  of  Kerry,  lie  many  beautiful  and  well- 
wooded  islands,  where  birds  sing"  at  dawn  and 
twilight  most  enchanting  strains.  Very  sweet  and  far- 
reaching  is  their  singing,  silvery  and  heart-moving, 
tender  and  jubilant,  a  paean  of  grateful  praise  to  the 
Lord  of  sky  and  earth  and  sea.  And  Echo,  the  Son  of 
the  Rock,  steals  out  of  his  fastnesses  to  listen,  and  en- 
raptured joins  his  voice  to  the  concert  of  rippling  melody 
until  the  tremulous  warble  of  the  birds  is  hurled  strong 
and  loud  across  the  blue  waters,  down  misty  glen  and 
deep  ravine;  over  slow  rivers  winding  through  green 
meadow-lands,  to  die  away  at  last  above  the  cloud- 
capped  crest  of  the  distant  purple  mountains. 

But  loveliest  of  all  these  lovely  islands,  where  song- 
birds have  their  home  among  blossoms  and  fluttering 
leaves,  is  Innisfallen,  the  fairy  isle.  Here  it  was  that 
Saint  Finan  built  his  great  monastery  in  the  ages  long 
ago,  and  here  did  Maelsoohan  O' Carroll  rule  as  eminent 
scholar  and  chief  Doctor  of  the  western  world  during 
the  reign  of  Brian  the  Ard-righ  of  Erin.  It  was  by 
Maelsoohan  that  Brian  in  his  boyhood  was  educated 
and  taught  the  duties  of  a  king,  and  in  after  years 
when  the  renowned  Dalcassian  was  monarch  over  all 
the  land,  mindful  of  the  love  and  reverence  his  heart 
held  ever  towards  the  teacher  of  his  youth,  he  sent  for 
the  sage,  and  raised  him  to  the  dignity  of  Anmchara  or 
Counsellor   to   the    King.      It   was   during    this  period 


20  IX    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

that  the  event  which  I  am  about  to  relate  occurred;  a 
wonderful  tale  and  a  true  one. 

There  came  one  day,  at  the  same  hour,  three  students 
from  Connor,  in  Ulster,  to  receive  education  from 
Maelsoohan  O'Carroll  in  his  monastery  on  Innisfallen. 
These  three  students  resembled  each  other  in  figure,  in 
features,  and  in  their  name,  which  was  Domnall.  They 
remained  three  years  learning  with  him,  and  their  talent 
was  so  marvellous  that  his  pride  in  them  became  very 
great.  At  the  end  of  the  three  years  they  said  to  their 
preceptor — M  It  is  our  desire  to  go  to  Jerusalem,  in  the 
land  of  Judea,  that  our  feet  may  tread  every  path  our 
Saviour  walked  in  when  on  earth.  This  is  our  wish, 
oh  master,  and  we  pray  thee  hinder  us  not,  but  give  us 
thy  blessing,  and  let  us  go."  And  while  his  heart  was 
sad  at  parting  with  them  Maelsoohan  made  answer — 
"  You  shall  not  go  until  you  have  left  with  me  the  re- 
ward of  my  labour." 

In  grief  and  amazement  the  pupils  said,  "  We  have 
not  anything  that  we  can  give  you,  oh  master,  to  com- 
pensate for  all  the  care  and  affection  you  have  spent 
upon  us,  but  we  will  remain  three  years  more  to  serve 
you  humbly  if  it  be  your  will."  "  I  do  not  wish  that," 
replied  the  sage,  '*  but  I  have  a  demand  to  make,  which 
you  shall  grant,  or  my  curse  will  rest  heavy  upon  you." 

"  Name  it,"  said  they,  "  and  if  it  lies  within  our 
power  we  shall  do  what  you  decree." 

Then  Maelsoohan  bound  them  by  an  oath  on  the 
Gospel  of  the  Lord  that  their  promise  might  be  kept. 
M  You  shall  go  and  make  your  pilgrimage  in  the  path 
that  your  souls  desire,"  said  he,  "  and  you  shall  die, 
at  the  same  time,  all  together.  The  demand  I  require 
from  you  is  that  you  wend  not  to  heaven  after  your 
deaths,  until  you  have  first  visited  me,  to  tell  me  the 


THE  TRAVELLING  SCHOLARS.  27 

length  of  my  life  and  whether  I  shall  obtain  the  peace 
of  the  Lord." 

H  We  promise  you  all  this,"  said  the  three,  "for  the 
sake  of  the  Lord,"  and  leaving  him  their  blessing  they 
departed. 

In  due  time  they  reached  the  land  of  Judea,  and 
walked  in  the  footsteps  of  the  Saviour.  They  came  at 
last  to  Jerusalem,  and  there  death  overtook  them,  all 
three  together  at  the  same  hour,  as  their  master  had 
foretold,  and  they  were  buried  with  much  honour  in 
that  holy  place.  Then  Michael  the  Archangel  came 
from  God  for  them,  but  they  said — "  We  will  not  go 
until  we  have  fulfilled  the  promise  which  we  made  to 
our  preceptor,  under  our  oaths  on  the  Gospel  of 
Christ." 

"Go,"  commanded  the  angel,  "  and  tell  him  that  he 
has  three  years  and  a  half  to  live, ' '  and  that  he  goes  to 
hell  for  all  eternity  after  the  sentence  of  the  Day  of 
Judgment." 

"  And  wherefore?  " 

'■  For  three  causes,"  replied  the  angel — "  namely, 
because  of  how  much  he  interpolates  the  canon,  and 
because  of  his  love  for  women,  and  also  for  having 
abandoned  the  Altus."* 

The  reason  why  Maelsoohan  abandoned  the  Altus 
was  this.  He  had  a  very  good  son  named  Maelpatrick, 
who  became  seized  with  a  mortal  sickness,  and  the 
Altus  was  seven  times  sung  round  him  that  he  should 
not  die.     This  was,  however,  of  no  avail,  since  the  son 


*The  Altus. — This  was  the  celebrated  poem  or  hymn  written 
by  Saint  Columcille  at  Iona  in  honour  of  the  Trinity,  when  the 
messengers  of  Pope  Gregory  came  to  him  with  the  great  cross 
and  other  presents. 


28  IN   THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

died  forthwith,  and  the  father  then  declared  that  he 
would  no  longer  sing  the  hymn,  as  he  did  not  see  that 
God  honoured  it.  Therefore  Maelsoohan  had  been 
seven  years  without  singing  the  Altus  when  his  three 
pupils  came  to  talk  to  him  in  the  form  of  white  doves. 

14  Tell  me,"  said  he,  "what  shall  be  the  length  of  my 
life,  and  if  I  shall  receive  the  heavenly  reward?" 

14  You  have,"  replied  they,  "  three  more  years  to 
live,  and  after  that  time  you  go  to  hell  for  ever." 

44  Why  should  I  go  to  hell?"  queried  Maelsoohan,  in 
great  awe  and  wonderment. 

14  For  three  causes,"  and  they  related  to  him  the 
three  causes  already  known. 

"It  is  not  true  that  I  shall  go  to  the  place  of  the 
wicked,"  said  their  master,  M  for  those  three  vices  that 
are  mine  this  day  shall  not  be  mine  even  this  day,  nor 
shall  they  be  mine  from  this  time  forth,  for  I  will 
abandon  these  vices,  and  God  will  forgive  me  for  them, 
as  He  Himself  has  promised,  when  He  said — M  The 
impiety  of  the  impious,  in  whatever  hour  he  shall  be 
turned  from  it,  shall  not  injure  him."  I  will  put  no 
sense  of  my  own  into  the  canons,  but  such  as  I  shall 
find  in  the  Divine  Books.  I  will  perform  a  hundred 
genuflections  every  day.  Seven  years  have  I  been 
without  singing  the  Altus;  now  I  will  sing  it  seven 
times  every  night  while  I  live;  and  I  will  keep  a  three 
days'  fast  every  week.  Go  you  now  to  heaven,  and 
come  back  on  the  day  of  my  death  to  tell  me  the 
result." 

14  We  will  come,"  they  promised,  so  the  three  de- 
parted as  they  came,  first  leaving  a  blessing  with  him, 
and  receiving  his  blessing  in  return. 

When,  at  the  end  of  three  years,  Maelsoohan  lay  on 
his  death-bed,  the  three  pupils  appeared  to  him  in  the 


THE  TRAVELLING  SCHOLARS. 


29 


same  forms — that  of  white  doves.  They  saluted  him, 
and  he  returned  their  salutations,  saying — "  Is  my  life 
the  same  before  God  as  it  was  on  the  former  day  when 
you  came  to  talk  to  me,  oh  my  children?"  and  they 
replied — 

"  It  is  not,  indeed,  the  same,  for  we  were  shown  your 
place  in  heaven,  and  we  are  satisfied  with  its  goodness. 
We  are  now  here,  as  we  promised,  to  take  you  with  us 
to  the  place  which  is  prepared  for  you  that  you  may  be 
in  the  presence  of  God,  in  the  unity  of  the  Trinity,  and 
of  the  hosts  of  heaven,  till  the  Day  of  Judgment." 

There  were  assembled  about  Maelsoohan  many 
priests  and  ecclesiastics;  he  was  annointed,  and  his 
pupils  parted  not  with  him  until  they  all  went  to  heaven 
together.  And  in  the  Monastery  of  Innisfallen,  on 
Loch  Lein,  there  was  exceeding  sorrow  and  regret 
because  of  the  loss  of  so  learned  and  holy  a  man.  But 
in  the  truly  wonderful  books  he  had  compiled  the  priests 
and  scholars  found  much  food  for  study  and  reflection 
in  after  years;  hence  it  is  that  the  name  and  fame  of 
Maelsoohan  O 'Carroll  is  handed  down  even  to  us  of 
this  day  as  a  sage  Doctor  of  far-extending  renown — 
the  preceptor  and  counsellor  of  Brian  Boroimbhe,  Ard- 
righ  of  Erin,  and  victor  of  the  bloody  field  of  Cluain- 
tairbh. 


Pursuit  of  Dlarmuld  and 
Grainne* 


Pursuit  of  Diarmuid  and  Grainne. 

IT  was  told  to  me  by  a  warrior  of  the  Fiana  Eirinn, 
he  who  afterwards  became  thy  father,  O  little 
prattling  ones,  how  Fionn  in  the  mighty  passion 
of  his  anger,  when  the  magic  sleep  had  passed  away 
from  the  wedding-guests  in  the  banqueting  hall  of 
King  Cormac  MacArt,  gathered  his  great  host  around 
him,  and  gave  chase  to  my  Princess  Grainne  and 
Diarmuid  O'Duibhne.  Of  a  surety  it  would  have 
proved  an  ill  flight  for  the  lovers  had  they  been  friend- 
less in  this  hour  of  their  need,  but  the  hearts  of  Fionn 's 
army,  save  a  few,  were  vwith  them,  and  Angus  Oge  the 
Immortal,  the  foster-father  of  Diarmuid,  followed  un- 
seen in  their  wake  from  the  palace  of  Tara. 

Fast  and  furious  did  Fionn  ride  upon  their  track 
until  he  came  to  the  Ford  of  Athlone,  over  against  the 
Shannon  river.  Here  the  flowing  water  guarded  the 
secret  of  their  passage;  nor  did  the  pursuers  dream  at 
first  that  Diarmuid,  lifting  his  dear  lady  high  in  his 
strong  arms,  had  borne  her  in  safety  across  the  perilous 
shallows.  But  when  Fionn  found  his  tracking-men  of 
the  Clan  Navin  at  fault  he  threatened  them  with  death 
because  of  the  interruption  to  his  journey,  so  that  in 
fear  they  waded  over  the  ford,  and  came  upon  the 
brown  steeds  of  Diarmuid  and  the  Princess  cropping  the 
short,  sweet  grass  on  the  farther  bank. 

"It  is  even  as  I  deemed,"  said  Fionn  exultingly, 
11  that  they  have  sought  shelter  within  the  Wood  of  the 
Two  Tents.  Now  of  a  certainty  shall  I  discover  and 
destroy  them." 


34  IN   TH»   CELTIC   *ASt. 

When  Oscar  and  Oisin  and  Caoilte  heard  him  speak 
thus  they  were  filled  with  trouble  that  his  unreasoning 
hate  should  move  him  to  this  deed;  so  Oscar  called  to 
him  by  stealth  Bran,  the  hound  of  Fionn,  who  loved 
Diarmuid  well-nigh  better  than  his  own  master,  telling 
him  to  follow  the  trail  to  the  Wood  of  the  Two  Tents, 
and  bear  a  warning  to  the  lovers  hidden  therein. 

Now  in  this  wood  Diarmuid  had  built  a  hut  of  woven 
branches  for  Grainne,  and  they  were  resting  there  when 
the  dog  came  upon  them  and  thrust  his  head  into  Diar- 
muid's  bosom,  awakening  him.  The  knight  knew  that 
Bran  had  brought  a  message  of  danger,  and  he  said  to 
Grainne — 

"  Fionn  is  upon  us  for  the  purpose  of  encompassing 
my  death.  It  will  one  day  come  to  me  from  his  hands, 
for  his  anger  is  relentless;  therefore  I  shall  not  fly,  but 
will  bide  here  to  do  combat  with  him. ' ' 

An  agony  of  fear  fell  upon  Grainne,  and,  with  tears, 
she  begged  him  to  leave  the  wood;  then,  seeing  the  de- 
termination of  Diarmuid,  she  forebore  to  urge  him 
further.  And  as  they  waited  a  great  shout,  three  times 
repeated,  echoed  clearly  over  the  land,  startling  the 
birds  in  their  flight  and  chasing  the  bloom  from  the 
cheek  of  the  listening  girl. 

Her  blue  eyes,  wide  with  questioning,  sought  the 
brown  ones  of  Diarmuid. 

**  That  is  the  shout  of  Fergor,  the  errand-man  of 
Caoilte,  love,"  he  said,  "  and  it  is  my  friends  who  have 
caused  him  to  utter  it,  so  that  I  may  hear  and  be  fore- 
warned.  Yet  I  will  not  fly  from  the  approach  of  Fionn. " 

So  he  set  himself  to  build  around  his  dwelling  a  fence 
that  no  man  could  pierce,  and  in  it  he  erected  seven 
narrow  doors  of  strong  poles  interwoven  with  saplings 
Vo  face  seven  different  parts  of  the  wood.     And  when 


PURSUIT   OF  DIARMUID   AND  GRAINNE.  55 

the  Clan  Navin  had  reached  the  thicket  in  advance  of 
the  others  they  climbed  to  a  high  tree,  so  that  they 
could  see  the  interior  of  O'Duibhne's  fortification,  with 
the  fair  princess  within,  a  description  of  whose  marvel- 
lous beauty  they  brought  back  to  their  master. 

44  That  is  in  truth  she,"  said  Fionn,  "  and  glad  I  am 
that  they  are  now  surrounded."  But  Oisin,  his  son, 
exclaimed  bitterly,  "  Thou  art  surely  blinded  by 
jealousy,  my  father,  to  think  that  Diarmuid  would  linger 
in  this  unprotected  place  knowing  that  his  life  is 
sought  by  thee." 

44  Thou  shall  hear  him  give  proof  of  my  foreknow- 
ledge in  his  own  voice,"  Fionn  made  answer,  und  going 
nearer  to  the  fence  he  cried  out — 

44  Art  thou  within,  O  Diarmuid?  If  so,  speak  loudly 
that  all  may  hear  thy  words. ' ' 

And  Diarmuid  spake  clearly  :  u  Thou  wert  never  in 
error  yet,  O  chief.  We  are  indeed  here,  but  my  arm 
is  still  strong  enough  to  keep  thee  outside  my  door." 

Then  Fionn  ranged  his  men  round  the  enclosure, 
giving  each  company  a  door  to  guard,  and  exhorted 
them  to  watch  closely  so  that  by  none  of  them  should 
the  prey  escape.  From  a  mound  a  little  way  off  he 
observed  the  hut  and  saw  Diarmuid  comfort  his  wife, 
kissing  her  three  times. 

44  Now  for  that,"  shrieked  the  old  man  in  great 
wrath,  "  thou  shalt  not  find  even  a  loophole  of  deliver- 
ance. Thy  head  shall  be  my  trophy  speedily,"  and  the 
burning  jealousy  that  was  in  his  heart  lit  his  face  with 
a  purple  flame. 

But  Angus  of  the  Boyne,  seeing  the  plight  of  his 
foster-son,  came  to  him  and  passed  into  the  hut  un- 
perceived  by  Fionn  and  his  men.  To  the  lovers  he 
*aid — 


36  IN   THE   CELTIC   PAST. 

11  Come,  O  dear  ones,  under  my  mantle,  and  I  shall 
bring  you  both  away  from  this  place  unseen." 

Yet  Diarmuid  would  not  accept  of  the  proffered  aid 
for  himself.  "  I  shall  not  run  before  the  pursuit  of 
Fionn,  as  thou  well  knowest, "  he  replied,  H  but  for  my 
princess  it  is  different.  Take  her  away  to  safety,  O 
Angus,  and  if  the  Fianna  should  slay  me  leave  her  under 
the  protection  of  her  father,  King  Cormac  Mac  Art. ' ' 

With  many  sorrowful  kissings  Grainne  bade  him 
farewell,  and,  wrapped  in  the  magic  mantle  of  Angus 
Oge,  she  passed  invisible  over  the  watching  companies 
away  to  the  Wood  of  the  two  Sallows,  where  they 
halted  to  wait  for  Diarmuid. 

Meanwhile,  he,  left  behind,  girded  on  his  armour  and 
prepared  for  battle.  He  took  his  tall  weapons  in  his 
hands  and  stood  meditating  in  silence  for  a  space. 
Then  he  approached  one  of  the  seven  narrow  doors  and 
called — 

M  Who  stands  without  there?" 

"  The  Clan  Baisgne,  with  Oisin  and  Oscar,"  came 
in  the  sweet,  clear  voice  of  his  friend  the  Bard.  "Open 
to  us,  O  brother,  and  none  shall  dare  molest  thee." 

"  I  thank  thee,  faithful  friends,"  said  Diarmuid. 
"  Yet  it  is  by  Fionn 's  door  that  I  must  depart,  and  not 
by  any  other, ' '  and  he  came  to  the  second  door,  calling  : 

11  Who  keeps  guard?" 

11  Caoilte  and  the  Clan  Ronan,  thy  friends.  Put  thy- 
self in  our  hands,  O  Diarmuid." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  he  answered,  gratefully;  "I  should  but 
bring  the  anger  of  Fionn  upon  thee, ' '  and  he  called  to 
the  sentinels  of  the  third  door  : 

4<  Art  thou  friends  or  foes  beyond?" 

u  Thy  friends — Conan  of  the  Gray  Rushes  and  the 
Clan  Morna.     We  love  thee,  Diarmuidt  come  to  us." 


PURSUIT  OF  DIARMUID  AND  GRAINNE.  87 

44  Direful  would  be  the  rage  of  Fionn  upon  thee, 
Conan,  should  I  avail  myself  of  thy  help,"  and  he  spake 
at  the  fourth  door  : 

"What  warrior  stands  here?" 

"  Thy  dear  comrade,  Cuan,  with  the  Munster  Fiana. 
Thou  art  of  our  kindred,  Diarmuid,  and  we  will  fight  to 
the  death  for  thy  sake." 

"  Not  to  thee,  O  Cuan,  shall  I  go  forth  to  bring  thee 
harm,"  and  at  the  fifth  door  he  repeated  his  question. 

44  It  is  the  men  of  Ulster,  under  the  son  of  Glor  of 
the  Loud  Voice,  who  await  thy  coming,  O  flower  of 
chivalry  !  Our  ranks  shall  gird  thee  round,  nor  shall 
a  hair  of  thy  head  be  harmed." 

44  O  noble  son  of  thy  father,"  said  Diarmuid,  "  not 
for  worlds  would  I  earn  for  thee  the  enmity  of  Fionn." 
Then  he  went  to  the  sixth  door,  and  the  men  of  the 
Clan  Navin  answered  him  : 

M  We  hate  thee,  and  here  we  stand  to  greet  thee  with 
our  spears — Aedh  the  Lesser,  and  Aedh  the  Tall,  and 
Gonna  the  Wounder,  with  all  our  men." 

But  Diarmuid  heeded  little  their  bitter  speech,  save  to 
say,  "  No  fear  of  thee  have  I,  O  shoeless  vagabonds, 
yet  I  do  not  desire  to  stain  my  bright  steel  with  the 
meanness  of  thy  blood." 

At  the  last  door  a  mighty  voice  saluted  him — 
41  Greeting  from  Fionn,  the  son  of  Cumhaill,  to  thee, 
O  Diarmuid.       The  Leinster  Fianna  are  here  to  cleave 
thee  to  the  marrow." 

44  This  is  the  door  by  which  I  shall  pass  out,  O 
Fionn,"  cried  the  knight,  and  rising  on  his  two  spears 
he  bounded  like  a  bird  over  the  fence,  alighting  on  the 
clear  space  beyond,  unseen  by  any. 

Then  southward  he  turned  to  the  Wood  of  the  Two 
Sallows,  where  Grainne  and  Angus  bided  his  coming. 


38  IN   THE   CELTIC    PAST. 

To  him  said  the  latter  when  bidding  farewell :  "  My 
son,  I  leave  this  counsel  to  guide  you  when  I  am  gone. 
Go  not  into  a  tree  having  only  one  trunk;  nor  enter  a 
cave  with  but  one  opening;  never  land  on  an  island  that 
has  only  one  channel  of  approach;  where  you  cook  your 
food  do  not  stay  to  eat  it;  where  you  eat  do  not  sleep; 
and  where  you  sleep  to-night  sleep  not  there  to-morrow 
night."  And  Diarmuid  promised  his  foster-father  that 
he  would  keep  this  warning  in  his  memory  during  the 
days  of  his  life. 


From  the  Rough  Stream  of  the  Champions,  where 
Diarmuid  killed  a  salmon  with  his  spear,  they  journeyed 
West,  until  they  reached  the  Grey  Moor  of  Finnlia. 
There  they  met  a  gigantic  man  of  noble  features,  to 
whom  Diarmuid  spake,  asking  his  name.  The  stranger 
answered  graciously  that  he  was  called  Modan,  and 
was  seeking  a  master  whom  he  might  serve  by  day  and 
watch  by  night.  Thereupon  Diarmuid  entered  into  an 
agreement  with  him  for  this  purpose,  and  the  three 
continued  their  flight  to  the  River  of  Carra,  which  flows 
into  Loch  Lein.  Over  this  river  Modan  bore  Diarmuid 
and  Grainne  with  the  greatest  ease,  and  beyond  it,  in 
a  cave  hidden  in  the  hillside  above  the  sea  of  Tonn 
Toma,  they  made  their  resting  place.  It  was  their 
stalwart  servitor  who  caught  and  broiled  for  them  their 
food  of  the  salmon,  and  after  he  had  served  them  kept 
watch  while  they  slept. 

In  the  gold  and  green  of  the  morning  Diarmuid  went 
forth  to  view  the  territory  lest  the  pursuers  should 
come  upon  him  unawares.  As  he  gazed  towards  the 
west  he  saw  a  fleet  of  black  ships  sailing  shorewards, 
from  which   a   company  of   nine   nines   landed.     The 


PURSUIT   OF  DIARMUID   AND  GRAINNE.  19 

knight  gave  greeting  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  to  them,  in- 
quiring from  them  their  race  and  country. 

"  From  the  Iccian  Sea,  lying  between  Albion  and 
Gaul,  we  come,"  said  the  three  leaders  of  the  host, 
"and  we  are  the  three  sea-champions,  namely,  Ducoss, 
Fincoss,  and  Trencoss.  We  have  come  thither  to  assist 
Fionn  Mac  Cumhaill  against  Diarmuid  O'Duibhne, 
who  has  rebelled,  and  is  now  a  wanderer  over  the  land 
of  Eirinn.  We  have  brought  with  us  three  venomous 
hounds  to  loose  on  the  track  of  Diarmuid;  fire  cannot 
burn  them;  weapons  cannot  wound  them;  nor  can  water 
drown.  Now,  since  we  have  told  thee  our  mission, 
perchance  thou  canst  give  us  tidings  of  the  quarry  we 
seek." 

11  I  saw  him,  indeed,  but  yesterday,"  answered  the 
hero,  *'  and  I  counsel  ye  to  be  wary  in  the  quest,  for 
this  Diarmuid  O'Duibhne  is  no  common  man."  Then 
he  drank  wine  with  them  which  they  had  brought  from 
their  ships,  and  after  drinking  he  offered  to  show  them 
a  champion  feat. 

"It  was  Diarmuid  himself  that  taught  me,"  he  assured 
them,  "  and  I  challenge  any  man  of  ye  to  do  it  after 
me." 

He  brought  the  empty  wine-cask  to  the  crest  of  the 
hill,  on  the  edge  of  a  steep  cliff,  and  leaping  up  on  it, 
he  turned  it  cunningly  aside  from  the  cliff  to  the  smooth 
slope,  down  which  it  rolled  to  the  bottom,  while  he  re- 
mained standing  on  it.  Three  times  did  he  do  this  for 
the  wonder  of  the  strangers. 

But  they  mocked  him,  saying,  "  Even  we  shall  try 
your  boasted  champion  feat  until  we  show  our  skill  and 
prove  its  simplicity."  So,  one  by  one,  fifty  of  them 
tried  it  in  succession,  but,  not  knowing  Diarmuid's  feint 
of   turning   the  cask   aside   from   the  rocky  cliff,  they 


40  IN   THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

went  over  headlong,  and  were  dashed  to  pieces  on  the 
shore  below. 

And  the  next  morning,  on  the  same  hill,  our  warrior 
found  the  three  sea-champions,  with  their  men.  To 
him  they  again  put  the  same  question  concerning  Diar- 
muid  O'Duibhne,  whereupon  he  said  : 

"I  have  seen  a  man  who  has  met  him  this  very  dawn, 
and  now  I  shall  show  you  another  feat  he  taught  me, 
that  you  may  tremble  at  a  conflict  with  him." 

He  rid  himself  of  his  helmet,  tunic,  and  armour,  until 
the  shirt  was  the  only  covering  over  his  brawny  shoul- 
ders, and  taking  the  Ga-boi,  the  spear  of  Mannanan 
Mac  Lir,  he  fixed  it  firmly  in  the  earth,  the  point  stand- 
ing upwards.  Then  from  a  distance  he  ran  towards 
the  spear,  rose  like  a  bird  into  the  air,  alighted  gently 
on  its  very  point,  and  leaped  to  the  ground  again  with- 
out hurt  or  harm  of  any  kind. 

Then  one  of  the  strangers  said,  "  Even  that  feat  we 
shall  try  to  thy  downfall,  O  boaster;"  so  in  succession 
fifty  of  them  strove  to  follow  Diarmuid;  but  each  man 
bounded  on  the  point  of  the  spear,  which  pierced  him 
to  the  heart.  After  this  great  havoc  amongst  their 
ranks  they  bade  Diarmuid  draw  his  spear  out  of  the 
ground,  because  no  other  of  them  should  lose  his  life 
in  trying. 

When  day  had  again  burst  through  the  heart  of  the 
dying  night  Diarmuid  returned  to  the  hill,  carrying  two 
strong  forked  poles  cut  from  the  wood.  And  meeting 
the  three  sea-champions  yet  another  time,  he  offered  to 
show  them  a  greater  feat  of  Diarmuid  O'Duibhne's.  He 
fixed  the  poles  standing  firmly  in  the  earth,  and  placed 
the  Morallta — that  is  the  long  sword  of  Angus  Oge,  in 
the  forks,  edge  upward,  with  the  point  on  one  and  the 
hilt  on  the  other,  binding  it  securely  in  its  place.    Then 


PURSUIT  OF  DIARMUID  AND  GRAINNE.  41 

he  rose  into  the  air  gracefully  like  a  swift-winged  bird, 
alighted  gently  on  the  edge,  walked  over  the  sharp 
weapon  three  times,  and  leaped  to  the  ground  again 
without  hurt  or  harm.  And  he  challenged  the  strangers 
to  try  the  feat  after  him. 

From  their  ranks  one  man  stepped  forth  bravely, 
saying — u  No  champion  feat  was  ever  yet  done  by  a 
man  of  Eirinn,  but  that  one  of  us  will  do  the  same," 
and  he  bounded  up,  but  came  down  heavily  on  the 
sharp  sword,  which  cut  his  body  into  two  halves.  And 
in  succession  the  sea-warriors  followed  his  example 
until  full  another  fifty  of  them  fell  by  the  keen,  shining 
magic  blade  of  Angus. 

When  in  dismay  and  anger  they  were  about  to  re- 
turn to  their  ships  they  asked  Diarmuid  to  give  them  in- 
formation of  the  man  they  sought,  that  is  himself,  and 
he  promised  to  bring  them  tidings  shortly.  So  in  the 
morning  he  arose  early,  and  this  time  arrayed  himself 
for  battle  in  his  heavy  armour,  which  was  so  fashioned 
that  neither  through,  nor  above,  nor  beneath  it,  could 
the  wearer  be  wounded.  On  his  left  hip  he  hung  the 
Morallta,  which  never  left  anything  for  a  second  blow, 
and  into  his  hands  he  took  the  two  famous  spears,  the 
Ga~derg  and  the  Ga-boi,  from  the  piercing  of  which  no 
one  ever  recovered. 

On  the  shore,  at  the  base  of  the  hill,  he  again  met 
the  strange  company,  who  asked  him  had  he  brought 
them  the  news  they  hungered  for. 

"  Diarmuid  is  not  far  off,"  said  the  knight,  4<  I  have 
spoken  with  him  but  lately." 

M  Lead  us  to  him,  O  warrior,"  cried  they  all,  "  that 
we  may  bring  his  head  to  Fionn,  the  son  of  Cumhaill." 

<l  I  am  knit  in  bonds  of  friendship  to  the  man  ye 
seek,"  replied  the  other,  "  and  since  he  is  under  the 
protection  of  my  valour  I  shall  do  him  no  treachery." 


42  IN   THE    CELTIC    PA9T. 

Then  in  blazing  wrath  they  rushed  upon  Diarmuid, 
saying — "  Thou  art  the  foe  of  Fionn,  being  the  friend 
of  Diarmuid  O'Duibhne,  and  we  will  bring  thy  head 
also  to  the  Chieftain  of  the  Fianna. " 

But  Diarmuid 's  battle-shout  rang  to  the  height  of 
the  tall  hill  and  along  the  winding  shore,  and  far  away 
to  where  the  white  foamy  waves  rose  and  fell  in  the 
deep  sea,  as  he  drew  the  Morallta  from  its  sheath  and 
dashed  upon  them.  Asunder  he  clove  them,  darting 
through  and  under  and  over  them  like  a  wolf  among 
sheep,  dealing  heavy,  vigorous  blows  with  the  death- 
sword  until  the  shore  ran  red  with  blood  and  the  watch- 
ing carrion-birds  wheeled  lower  and  lower  above  their 
prey.  And  but  a  few  of  all  that  warlike  host  escaped 
from  his  vengeance  to  the  safety  of  their  ships. 

After  this  he  returned  to  comfort  Grainne,  who  had 
remained  in  the  cave  with  Modan,  their  servitor,  weary- 
ing for  a  sight  of  her  lover  and  husband.  Her  heart 
was  weak  within  her  at  thought  of  his  conflict  single- 
handed  against  the  ferocious  champions,  but  when  she 
saw  him  ascend  towards  the  cave  unhurt  and  joyous, 
she  ran  forward  full  of  gladness  to  give  him  greeting. 
Then  Diarmuid  told  his  sweet  princess  how  his  good 
sword  and  spears  had  befriended  him,  while  she  bent 
and  kissed  the  blue-black  steel  for  very  gratitude. 

Yet  the  battle  between  Diarmuid  and  his  enemies  had 
not  ended,  for  Ducoss  and  Fincoss  and  Trencoss  were 
still  alive  in  the  ship  on  the  bay,  gazing  with  dire  hate 
in  their  souls  at  the  hill  that  guarded  their  foe.  And 
when  they  heard  in  the  early  hours  of  the  dawn  the 
challenge  of  his  hollow-sounding  shield  thundering 
across  the  billows,  Ducoss  straightway  armed  himself 
for  combat. 

When  they  met  these  two  great  fighters,   throwing 


PURSUIT   OF  DIARMUID   AND  GRAINNE.  48 

aside  their  weapons,  rushed  upon  each  other  for  the 
wrestle.  They  twisted  and  tugged  and  strained  in 
deadly  silence,  their  sinews  crackled,  and  the  veins  on 
their  bodies  stood  out  like  purple  cords;  the  earth 
trembled  beneath  them;  they  seemed  like. unto  raging- 
lions,  or  deadly  writhing  serpents,  or  like  savage  bulls 
that  struggle  to  heave  each  other  with  horns  inter- 
locked. Thus  did  they  contend  until  Diarmuid,  lifting 
Ducoss  on  his  shoulder,  threw  him  heavily  upon  the 
ground,  where  he  lay  groaning;  and  our  hero  chained 
him  with  hard  iron  bonds. 

Next  came  Fincoss  against  Diarmuid,  and  after  him 
Trencoss,  but  both  of  them  he  overcame  easily,  and 
bound  them  likewise,  leaving  this  speech  to  them  for 
their  solace — 

"  Your  heads  should  be  my  trophies,  but  these  bonds 
are  crueller  for  ye  than  instant  death,  and  your  torment 
shall  be  more  enduring,  since  none  can  release  ye  from 
them  save  myself." 

Then  in  the  security  of  his  cave  he  gave  Grainne 
tidings  of  the  fray.  "  I  have  left  them  fettered  on  the 
hill  so  that  their  pain  shall  be  prolonged,  nor  is  there 
any  fear  that  they  shall  be  freed  from  my  binding,  for 
only  four  men  in  Eirinn  can  loosen  the  bonds  I  tie, 
namely,  Oisin,  and  Oscar,  and  Mac  Luga,  and  Conan 
Maol;  nor  will  one  of  these  four  free  them.  When 
Fionn  hears  of  their  state  he  will  follow  us  more  closely 
with  the  three  venomous  dogs,  so  we  must  leave  this 
place  to  escape  him  without  delay." 

And  again  they  set  forth  upon  their  journeying  till 
they  reached  the  broad  heathery  slopes  )f  Slieve 
Lougher,  where  they  halted  to  rest  on  the  banks  of  a 
mountain  stream  that  danced  and  rippled  along  from 
the  heart   of  the  hillside.     From   this   spot   Diarmuid 


44  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

looked  down  into  the  valley,  and  saw  approaching  it 
from  westward  the  foreigners  of  the  sea-champions  in 
battle  array,  with  silken  banners  waving  overhead  their' 
ranks.  In  front  of  all  marched  three  green-clad 
warriors,  who  held  the  three  fierce  hounds  by  three 
chains,  at  sight  of  whose  horrid  bristling  ugliness  Diar- 
muid  was  filled  with  loathing.  Then  Modan  lifted 
Grainne  once  more,  and  walked  a  mile  with  Diarmuid 
up  the  stream  into  the  solitude  of  the  mountain. 

Now  the  reason  of  the  sudden  coming  of  these  three 
green  warriors  upon  Diarmuid's  track  was  because  of 
the  advice  given  them  by  Derdri  of  the  Black  Moun- 
tain, an  enchantress,  and  the  errand-woman  of  Fionn, 
who,  travelling  speedily  over  the  land  to  bring  the 
Chieftain  tidings  of  his  hunted  enemy,  had  found  the 
three  sea-champions  lying  bound  on  the  hillside  above 
the  wave  of  Tonn  Toma.  To  their  lamenting  armv 
she  spake,  telling  them  to  take  the  three  fierce  dogs 
and  follow  O'Duibhne,  who  could  not  be  far  off. 
Which  advice  they  at  once  complied  with. 

When  the  green-clad  warriors  caught  sight  of 
Diarmuid  they  loosed  one  of  the  three  hounds  on  him. 
The  hoarse  yelping  of  this  hound  awakened  great 
dread  in  the  breast  of  Grainne,  but  Modan  told  her  not 
to  fear,  for  that  he  would  deal  with  it.  Turning  round 
he  drew  from  beneath  his  girdle  a  little  hound-whelp, 
which  he  placed  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.  There  it 
stood  until  the  great  hound  came  up  raging,  with  wide- 
open  jaws,  when,  with  a  swift  spring,  the  small  hound 
leaped  from  Modan's  hand  into  the  yawning  throat  of 
the  other,  breaking  its  heart,  so  that  it  fell  dead  upon 
the  spot.  And  after  that  the  whelp  leaped  back  again 
on  Modan's  hand,  and  the  brave  servitor  placed  ;t 
under  his  girdle  again. 


PURSUIT   OF  DIARMUID   AND  GRAINNE.  4fr 

They  walked  another  mile  up  the  stream,  Modan 
carrying  Grainne,  whose  spirit  was  in  terror  lest  evil 
should  befall  them  from  the  pursuers.  Then  they  heard 
another  time  the  fierce,  hoarse  baying  of  the  second 
hound,  and  Diarmuid  turning  said — 

41  1  will  try  tne  Ga-derg,  the  magic  spear  of  Angus, 
on  this  hound;"  and  putting  his  hnger  into  the  silken 
loop  of  the  spear  he  tnrew  it  at  the  hound,  driving  its 
point  down  the  open  throat,  so  that  the  brute  was 
pierced  from  mouth  to  tail  and  fell  dead  like  its 
comrade. 

Then  they  climbed  another  mile  into  the  fastnesses 
of  the  mountain,  and  after  them  sped  the  third  hound, 
at  sight  of  which  Grainne  cried  : 

44  Guard  thyself,  O  love,  ior  this  is  the  fiercest  of  the 
three;  his  eyes  are  as  torching  flames,  and  his  teeth  are 
sharp  as  a  battle-brand,"  and  even  as  she  uttered 
these  words  the  hound  overtook  them  at  a  place  called 
Duban's  Pillar  Stone.  Diarmuid  stepped  in  lront  of  his 
wife  to  shield  her,  but  the  beast  rose  with  one  great 
spring  over  Diarmuid 's  head  and  had  almost  seized  the 
princess,  when  the  knight  grasped  him  by  the  two 
rough  hind  legs,  and,  whirling  him  round,  dashed  out 
his  brains  against  a  rock. 

In  an  instant  he  had  faced  upon  the  green-clad 
knights  who  followed  close  upon  the  passage  of  the 
hound,  and  placing  his  finger  into  the  silken  string  of 
the  Ga-derg  he  threw  the  spear  at  the  foremost  of  the 
three  and  slew  him.  Then  he  made  another  cast  with 
the  Ga-boi  and  brought  down  the  second  warrior,  and, 
drawing  the  Morallta,  he  sprang  nimbly  on  the  third 
and  struck  off  his  head. 

Seeing  their  leaders  slain,  the  foreigners  ran  hither 
and  thither  seeking  escape;  but  Diarmuid  fell  upon  them 


46  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

with  sword  and  spear,  dealing  death  heavily  amongst 
them,  scattering  and  slaughtering.  And  the  news  of 
this  terrific  conflict  was  conveyed  to  Fionn  by  Derdri 
of  the  Black  Mountain,  who  had  been  watching  near 
by  to  the  Hill  of  Allen.  He  journeyed  forth  by  the 
shortest  ways  to  the  spot  where  the  three  champions 
lay  bound,  and  when  he  saw  the  letters  that  had  been 
placed  upon  them  by  Diarmuid  his  grief  was  sore,  of  a 
truth,  knowing  well  that  no  man  save  the  four  who  lay 
under  geasa  to  Diarmuid  that  they  would  not  undo  his 
bonds,  could  untie  these  strong  and  flesh-wounding 
iron  knots. 

Yet  Fionn  asked  the  four  in  turn  to  deliver  the  three 
sea-kings— Oisin   and   Oscar,    Mac   Luga  and   Conan 
They  refused,  saying,   "None  shall  be  released  by  us 
that  Diarmuid  O'Duibhne  hath  bound.       Fain,  indeed, 
would  we  place  heavier  bonds  upon  his  enemies." 

And  drawing  nearer  the  great  chief,  Derdri  con- 
tinued her  story  of  Diarmuid's  prowess,  relating  how 
he  had  slain  the  three  fierce  hounds  and  made  a 
slaughter  of  the  foreigners.  Hearing  which  the  three 
kings,  being  tormented  sorely  with  their  fetters,  and 
anguished  by  the  direful  import  of  her  tidings,  fell 
back  upon  the  sward  and  died. 

And  Fionn  caused  them  to  be  placed  in  three  wide 
graves,  with  Ogham  stones  laid  above  them.  He  gave 
them  funeral  rites  such  as  are  given  to  dead  kings,  and 
then,  filled  with  an  enduring  hate  and  jealousy  towards 
Diarmuid,  he  marched  northward  with  his  host  to  his 
home  on  the  broad  green  slopes  of  the  Hill  of  Allen. 

Then  Diarmuid  and  my  Princess,  still  intent  only 
upon  finding  a  resting-place  secure  from  the  vengeance 
of  Fionn,  came  in  their  journeying  to  the  Forest  of 
Dooras,  in  the  territory  of  Hy-Fiachra,  and  here  the 


PURSUIT   OF  DIARMUID   AND  GRAINNE.  47 

knight  determined  to  make  an  abode  for  his  dear  lady, 
safe  in  the  heart  of  the  leafy  shade,  quiet  and  remote. 

11  Shall  we  venture  into  this  thick,  dark  wood,  dear 
love?"  said  Grainne  when  they  had  reached  its  verge, 
tired  out  with  the  travel  of  many  days.  "  I  am  very 
weary,  and  would  rest;  yet  what  if  Fionn  should  lurk 
beyond  there  and  his  tracking  men?" 

"  Nay,  sweet  one,"  laughed  Diarmuid,  "  drive  that 
fear  away  from  thy  heart.  Fionn  would  not  dare  to 
follow  us  to  the  tree  of  Sharvan  the  Surly." 

"Tell  me  of  him,"  she  besought.  "Is  he  another 
danger  thou  hast  yet  to  face?" 

"A  danger  truly  if  I  meddle  with  the  quicken-tree  he 
guards  for  the  Dedanaans — his  fairy  kinsfolk.  Other- 
wise we  may  dwell  in  peace  anear  him.  The  tree  grew 
up  in  Dooras  from  a  berry  of  their  sacred  food  brought 
from  fairyland  and  dropped  unheeded  when  the  De- 
dannans  passed  through  on  their  way  to  Loch  Lein  for 
a  game  of  hurley  with  the  Fianna.  And  hence  it  came 
that,  hearing  afterwards  of  the  growth  of  this  magic 
tree,  the  fairy  people  sent  Sharvan  the  Surly  to  guard 
it,  so  that  none  might  eat  the  berries  save  such  as  were 
of  their  own  race.  For  those  little  red-clusters  thou 
may'st  see  glowing  like  a  robin's  breast  among  the 
green  leaves,  O  Grainne,  possess  the  power  to  change 
an  old  man  of  a  hundred  years,  frail  and  toothless,  into 
one  of  thirty,  straight  and  agile  and  beautiful  in  form 
and  feature,  if  he  should  but  eat  three  of  their  number. 
And  to  the  tongue  their  flavour  is  sweet  as  of  honey; 
one  who  hath  tasted  them  shall  feel  his  spirit  grow 
cheerful  as  if  his  lips  had  dipped  into  the  luscious  rich- 
ness of  old  mead,  and  pain  and  conflict  had  no  longer 
power  to  trouble  him.  Therefore,  thou  see'st,  my  fair 
one,  that  many  would  dare  danger  for  sake  of  plucking 


48  IN   THE   CELTIC   PAST. 

three  berries  of  this  wonderful  tree,  but  Sharvan  sleeps 
not  night  nor  day;  fire  cannot  burn  him  nor  water 
drown,  nor  can  any  weapon  known  of  man  make  the 
least  little  wound  in  his  body  save  his  own  great  club, 
which  is  tied  to  an  iron  girdle  round  his  waist.  Three 
blows  of  it  in  a  strong  hand  will  leave  him  silent  for 
evermore — yet  what  man  in  Eirinn  would  willingly 
seek  battle  with  such  as  he?" 

"Go  not  near  him,  O  Diarmuid,"  said  Grainne  tear- 
fully, "save  in  peace.  Thou  hast  had  knowledge  of 
war  and  unequal  combat;  now  let  us  have  a  little  quiet 
home  to  ourselves  under  these  shadowy  boughs."  And 
Diarmuid  consenting,  kissed  the  bright,  clear  drops 
from  her  lovely  eyes  ere  he  went  to  hold  parley  with 
the  giant-guardian  of  Dooras. 

When  Sharvan  saw  the  warrior  come  stepping  boldly 
down  the  green  pathways  of  the  forest  he  rose  up  from 
his  seat  at  the  foot  of  the  quicken  tree,  showing  his  enor- 
mous proportions  and  the  direful  ugliness  of  his  dusky 
face.  He  was  of  the  wicked  race  of  Cain;  his  features 
were  thick  and  sullen,  and  in  the  middle  of  his  black 
forehead  gleamed  one  broad,  red,  fiery  eye.  To  him 
Diarmuid  spoke  bravely,  seeking  leave  to  dwell  in  the 
forest  and  hunt  its  wild  animals  for  food.  Where- 
upon the  giant,  in  brief  and  surly  speech,  told  him  he 
might  hunt  or  dwell  where  he  would  so  long  as  he 
sought  not  to  lay  hands  upon  the  sacred  quicken 
berries. 

Without  delay  Diarmuid  built  for  himself  and  Grainne 
a  hunting-booth  near  a  spring  in  the  heart  of  the 
Forest  of  Dooras,  and  round  about  it,  in  a  clear  space, 
he  raised  a  fence  of  strong  stakes  interwoven  with 
tough  withes,  through  which  the  only  passage  was  one 
well-barred  door.     Here  they  abode  i*l  love  and  peace- 


PURSUIT   OF  DIARMUID  AND  GRAINNE.  49 

fulness,  drinking  the  water  of  the  well  and  eating  the 
food  that  each  day  Diarmuid  brought  down  in  the  chase. 

But  Fionn  MacCumhaill  had  not  forgotten  his  cause 
of  anger  against  Diarmuid,  and  night  after  night  he 
brooded  during  his  sleepless  hours  over  the  injury  that 
had  been  done  him  by  my  Princess  and  her  husband. 
Many  were  the  plans  he  wove  in  the  dark  silence  as  to 
how  the  death  of  Diarmuid  should  be  encompassed,  yet 
when  morning  dawned,  with  its  flame  of  trailing  glory 
in  the  east,  the  memory  of  O'Duibhne's  world-famed 
prowess  came  back  to  him,  and  he  knew  that  by  no 
ordinary  means  could  this  man's  downfall  be  assured. 

In  this  wise  he  kept  his  hatred  active  as  the  fire  of 
fever,  and  the  passion  of  his  bitter  mood  was  at  its 
height  when  one  day  there  arrived  at  the  palace  on  the 
Hill  of  Allen  a  strange  company  of  fifty  horsemen  led 
by  two  warriors  taller  and  nobler  and  more  radiantly 
clad  than  the  others.  They  bowed  low  in  greeting  to 
Fionn,  relating  to  him  in  courteous  tones  the  reason 
of  their  coming. 

"We  are  thine  enemies  of  the  Clan  MacMorna, 
chieftain,  Angus,  the  son  of  Art,  and  Aed,  the  son  of 
Andala  MacMorna.  Thou  did'st  outlaw  us  because 
our  fathers  fought  against  and  slew  thy  father, 
Cumhaill,  at  the  battle  of  Knocka,  though  they  after- 
wards atoned  for  that  crime  with  their  lives  at  thine 
own  hands.  It  is  not  meet  that  we  should  suffer  longer 
for  sake  of  this  ancient  feud,  seeing  that  we  are  blame- 
less, for  we  had  not  opened  our  eyes  upon  the  earth  at 
the  time  this  harm  did  happen  thee.  Therefore,  we 
beg  thee  now  to  make  peace  with  us  and  grant  us  our 
father's  places  in  the  ranks  of  the  Fianna." 

"Even  that  shall  I  promise  ye,"  said  Fionn  tardily, 
"provided  ye  pav  eric  to  me  for  the  death  of  my 
father." 


50  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

"What  may  that  eric  be?"  they  questioned  humbly, 
"for  we  have  neither  gold  nor  rich  garments  nor  cattle 
to  offer." 

"It  is  only  one  of  two  things,  O  sons  of  Morna — 
namely,  the  full  of  my  hand  of  quicken-tree  berries  or 
else  the  head  of  a  warrior  whom  I  hate. ' ' 

Then  ere  they  could  reply,  Oisin  the  Bard  raised  his 
silver  voice  for  their  hearkening,  and  said,  "Take  this 
counsel  from  me,  O  sons  of  Morna,  for  well  I  know  the 
thoughts  that  darken  the  soul  of  Fionn,  and  would 
warn  ye  against  your  own  undoing.  The  head  my 
father  seeks  is  that  of  Diarmuid  O'Duibhne,  than  whom 
no  braver  warrior  abides  in  the  land  of  Eirinn,  and 
little  chance  would  ye  have  of  overthrowing  him  in 
combat.  As  for  the  berries,  O  youths,  they  are  those 
of  the  quicken-tree  of  Dooras,  which  is  guarded  by  a 
giant,  whom  even  the  Fianna  hold  in  dread,  and  the 
Danaan  people  shall  cast  their  spells  upon  whosoever 
seeks  to  touch  its  leaves  or  fruit  against  their  wishes." 

But  the  two  chieftains,  in  answer  to  the  counselling 
of  Oisin,  replied  that  they  had  rather  pay  the  eric  de- 
manded by  Fionn  than  return  to  their  own  country 
again;  so  they  set  forth  on  their  quest  for  the  Wood  of 
Dooras  and  the  hunting-booth  of  Diarmuid  and  Grainne 
When  the  knight,  hearing  the  sound  of  their  approach, 
had  gone  forward  to  meet  them,  and  had  learned  the 
object  of  their  mission,  he  laughed  out  loud,  a  clear, 
deep  laughter,  at  the  foolhardiness  of  the  errand  they 
had  undertaken. 

"I  fear  ye  will  find  it  no  easy  matter  to  deprive  me  of 
my  head,  O  sons  of  Morna,  and  as  for  the  quicken- 
berries,  Sharvan  the  Surly  keeps  a  watchful  eye  upon 
them  night  and  day.  Hath  Fionn  told  ye  the  tale  of 
this   giant — how   he   cannot  be   burned    with    fire,  or 


PURSUIT   OF  DIARMUID  AND  GRAINNE.  51 

drowned  with  water,  or  wounded  with  weapons?  And 
which  will  ye  fight  for  first — my  head  or  the  quicken- 
berries?" 

"It  is  with  thee  we  shall  deal  first,"  said  they 
eagerly. 

Then  Diarmuid  proposed  that  they  should  throw  aside 
all  their  weapons  and  in  this  combat  rely  upon  their 
bodily  strength  alone.  But  the  wrestle  was,  indeed, 
a  short  one,  for  he  overcame  them  easily  and  bound 
them  in  close  and  bitter  bonds  even  as  he  had  bound 
the  three  great  sea-kings  on  the  hillside  above  Tonn 
Toma. 

Now  this  contest  between  Diarmuid  and  the  Mac- 
Mornas  was  witnessed  by  Grainne,  upon  whom  there 
suddenly  came  a  strong  desire  to  taste  the  berries  of 
the  quicken-tree,  and  after  striving  against  the  craving, 
at  last  she  told  Diarmuid  she  would  surely  die  unless  he 
brought  to  her  a  cluster  of  the  ripe  red  fruit.  The  re- 
quest troubled  Diarmuid  exceedingly,  for  he  had  no 
wish  to  quarrel  with  Sharvan,  yet  he  could  not  deny 
his  love,  seeing  the  longing  that  was  in  her  face. 

Thereupon  the  sons  of  Morna,  speaking  from  the 
ground,  where  they  lay,  exclaimed,  "Loosen  our 
bonds,  O  hero,  and  we  will  go  with  thee  to  fight  the 
giant."  And  Diarmid  loosed  them  gladly,  for  their 
aid  was  welcome  to  him. 

At  the  foot  of  the  fairy-tree  they  found  Sharvan 
asleep,  and  Diarmuid  dealt  him  a  heavy  blow  to  waken 
him.  He  lifted  his  huge  head,  glared  at  the  three  with 
his  great  red  eye,  saying  : 

"Art  thou  come  in  enmity  against  me,  with  whom 
thou  hast  been  at  peace,  oh  foolish  warrior?"  and 
Diarmuid  made  answer  in  this  wise  : 

"It  is  not  in  strife  I  come  altogether,  but  my  wife, 


52  IN   THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

Princess  Grainne,  the  daughter  of  King  Cormac  Mac 
Art,  longs  to  taste  of  those  quicken-berries,  and  if  she 
does  not  eat  them  she  will  die.  Therefore,  I  pray  thee, 
give  me  a  few  that  her  desire  may  be  satisfied." 

"Nay,"  replied  the  other,  "if  she  were  dying  in  very 
truth  and  that  one  of  my  berries  would  avert  her  death 
it  should  not  be  plucked  for  her." 

At  this  a  rush  of  fury  filled  the  heart  of  Diarmuid,  and 
seeing  that  he  was  intent  upon  fight,  the  giant  struck 
three  great  blows  at  him  with  his  club,  which  the 
knight  had  trouble  to  ward  off  and  which  hurt  him 
sorely.  But  watching  narrowly  his  chance,  he  swiftly 
threw  down  his  sword  and  spear  and  sprang  upon  his 
foe,  taking  him  unguarded.  He  clasped  his  strong 
arms  round  the  ungainly  body,  and,  heaving  him  with 
his  shoulder,  hurled  him  with  mighty  shock  to  the 
earth;  then,  seizing  the  ponderous  club,  he  dealt  him 
three  powerful  blows,  dashing  out  his  brains  upon  the 
forest  leaves. 

Weary  and  aching  in  every  limb,  Diarmuid  sat  down 
to  rest,  bidding  the  sons  of  Morna  drag  the  slain  giant 
into  a  secret  place  of  the  wood  and  bury  him  there,  lest 
Grainne  should  see  and  be  afraid.  Then  when  at  their 
calling  she  had  come  from  her  house  of  saplings  Diar- 
muid pointed  to  the  tree  : 

"The  way  is  clear  to  the  quicken-berries,  my  dear 
one.     Take  thou  and  eat."     But  she  replied  softly  : 

"It  is  only  from  thy  hands  I  shall  eat  them, 
beloved."  So  Diarmuid,  standing  up,  drew  down  a 
glowing  branch  and  filled  the  little  white  hands  ex- 
tended towards  him.  He  gave  also  to  the  MacMorna, 
speaking  thus  in  his  generosity  : 

"Take  these  berries  to  Fionn,  O  youths,  and  pay 
your  eric,  telling  him,  if  ye  choose,  that  Sharvan  the 
Surly  fell  by  your  prowess  alone." 


PURSUIT   OF  DIARMUID   AND  GRAINNE.  53 

And  they  thanked  Diarmuid,  bidding  him  farewell, 
and  went  their  ways  to  the  Hill  of  Allen,  taking-  with 
them  the  one  handful  stipulated  for  by  Fionn. 

Afterwards  Diarmuid  took  Grainne  to  live  in  Shar- 
van's  hut  among  the  broad  waving  branches  high 
above  the  ground,  and  they  discovered  that  the  top- 
most berries  were  the  sweetest  of  all — so  sweet  and  so 
life-giving  that  they  pined  not  for  other  food,  but  dwelt 
in  peace  and  bliss  in  their  airy  home  wrapped  in  the 
security  of  their  passionate  devotion  for  one  another. 


When  the  sons  of  Morna  reached  the  Palace  of 
Fionn  and  he  asked  them  had  they  brought  him  their 
eric,  they  handed  him  the  cluster  of  quicken-berries  in 
answer. 

"How  came  ye  to  do  this  deed?"  he  questioned, 
looking  closely  the  while  at  them  out  of  the  corners  of 
his  keen,  shaggy-browed  eyes. 

"  The  surly  giant  of  Dooras  is  slain,  O  Fionn,  and 
we  have  brought  thee  the  eric  demanded  for  the  death 
of  Cumhaill,  thy  father.  Surely  that  is  all  it  beseemeth 
thee  to  know. ' ' 

But  Fionn  smelled  the  berries  three  times,  and 
exclaimed  : 

It  was  Diarmuid  O'Duibhne  who  plucked  these  from 
the  quicken-tree  and  not  ye,  untruthful  youths,  for  1 
know  his  touch.  And  well  I  know  it  was  he,  and  he 
alone,  who  slew  the  giant.  Therefore,  it  shall  avail 
ye  nothing  to  have  brought  me  these,  since  ye  have 
made  peace  with  mine  enemy,  and  I  shall  still  hold  ye 
to  an  eric  before  ye  attain  to  a  place  in  the  ranks  of  the 
Fianna.  But  for  myself  I  shall  go  to  the  Wood  of 
Dooras  to  learn  if  Diarmuid  abides  in  its  solitudes. " 


54  IN   THE   CELTIC    frAST. 

So  the  chieftain  took  with  him  the  choice  men  of  the 
seven  battalions  of  the  Fianna  and  marched  away  to  the 
territory  of  Hy-Fiachra.  They  found  Diarmuid's  tracks 
to  the  fairy-tree  and  eat,  until  they  were  satisfied,  of 
the  ruddy  fruit.     Then  Fionn,  being  weary,  said  : 

"We  shall  rest  here  until  the  heat  is  gone  and  even- 
ing comes,  for  well  I  know  that  Diarmuid  O'Duibhne  is 
on  high  among  the  branches." 

Said  Oisin,  "  Truly  this  jealousy  hath  tainted  thy 
mind  with  unworthy  suspicions  since  thou  dreamest 
that  Diarmuid  would  wait  for  thy  approach  on  this  tree, 
knowing  that  his  head  is  thy  quarry."  And  Fionn, 
smiling  bitterly,  made  no  reply,  but  called  for  a  chess- 
board and  men  to  be  brought  to  him.  He  and  Oisin 
played  the  game  together  until  there  remained  but  one 
move  left  to  the  Bard,  over  which  he  sat  puzzled  and 
silent. 

From  his  seat  on  a  swaying  bough  Diarmuid  had 
watched  the  father  and  son  prove  their  skilful  know- 
ledge of  chess,  but  now  he  felt  grieved  that  Oisin 
should  be  the  loser,  and  flinging  a  berry  down  with 
true  aim  he  struck  a  chessman  that  Oisin  might  move 
it.  Thereupon  his  friend  moved  the  man  discreetly 
and  won  the  game  against  Fionn. 

Immediately  they  started  a  new  game,  which  went 
on  until  the  same  pass  was  reached  and  the  same  diffi- 
culty had  befallen  Oisin.  And  again  Diarmuid  threw 
down  a  berry  and  struck  the  right  man,  and  again 
Oisin  moved  him  and  won  the  game. 

A  third  time  the  game  went  on  and  the  chessman 
was  struck  by  Diarmuid  as  before,  so  that  Oisin  won  yet 
again.  Then  Fionn  gave  vent  to  bitter  taunting  of 
his  son  : 

"It  is  no  marvel  that  thou  should 'st  have  beaten  me 


PURSUIT   OF  DIARMUID   AND  GRAINNE.  55 

in  this  game,  Oisin,  seeing  that  thou  hast  acted  by  the 
prompting  of  Diarmuid  O'Duibhne. " 

"Foolish,  indeed,  thou  art,  O  Fionn,"  spake  Oscar 
the  Valiant,  "to  dream  that  Diarmuid  remains  within 
thy  reach  above  on  the  tree-trunk." 

"Now,  say  which  of  us  tells  truth,  Oscar  or  I,  O 
Diarmuid?"  cried  Fionn,  gazing  up  into  the  dark-green 
shadows. 

"  Thou,  Fionn,"  came  Diarmuid's  familiar  voice,  like 
the  echo  of  a  clear-toned  bell.  "I  am  here  with  the 
Princess  Grainne,  my  wife,  in  the  hut  of  Sharvan  the 
Surly." 

Then  the  Fianna,  darting  eager  looks  overhead,  saw 
them  there  together;  and  when  Grainne  began  to 
tremble  for  fear  of  danger,  O'Duibhne  put  his  arm 
round  her  and  comforted  her  with  three  warm  kisses 
before  them  all. 

"Those  kisses  but  add  another  to  the  score  thou 
shalt  yet  pay  me,"  muttered  Fionn  between  his 
clenched  teeth,  "so  now  defend  thy  head  'ii  thou  art 
able."  And  he  offered  a  suit  of  armour,  arms,  and  a 
high  place  among  the  Fianna  to  any  man  who  would 
climb  into  the  tree  and  bring  him  Diarmuid  alive  or 
dead. 

Garva  of  Slieve  Cua  cried  out  eagerly,  "Let  mine  be 
the  task,  for  it  was  Diarmuid's  father,  Donn,  who  slew 
my  father,  and  I  would  avenge  the  deed." 

But  Angus  Oge  learning  that  his  foster-son  was  in 
deadly  peril  travelled  to  him  on  the  pure  cold  wind,  and 
without  the  knowledge  of  the  Fianna  came  to  his  aid. 
His  approach  brought  great  joy  to  the  hearts  of 
Grainne  and  Diarmuid,  for  Garva  was  creeping  nearer 
them  from  branch  to  branch,  and  below  the  eight  other 
Garvas  waited  to  assist  their  kinsman  if  he  needed 
help. 


56  IN    THE   CELTIC    PAST. 

When  he  had  well-nigh  reached  the  hut  Diarmuid 
struck  him  a  blow  with  his  foot  which  dashed  him  to 
the  ground  among  the  Fianna.  And  they  cut  off  his 
head  in  a  trice,  because  Angus  had  caused  him  to  take 
the  shape  of  O'Duibhne,  but  after  he  was  slain  he 
became  like  unto  himself  again,  so  that  all  knew  it  was 
Garva  of  Slieve  Cua  that  had  been  killed. 

Then  in  anger  at  the  death  of  their  chieftain,  in  suc- 
cession the  eight  Garvas  tried  to  destroy  Diarmuid, 
until  one  by  one  they  met  with  the  same  fate — namely, 
Garva  of  Slieve  Crot,  of  Slieve  Gora,  of  Slieve  Mucka, 
of  Slieve  More,  of  Slieve  Luga,  of  Ath-free,  of  Slieve 
Mish,  of  Drom-more.  And  the  soul  of  Fionn  was  har- 
assed with  agony  beholding  this  appalling  slaughter. 

"Now  I  shall  descend  to  do  combat  with  mine 
enemies,  O  Angus,"  said  Diarmuid,  "and  if  I  live  till 
evening  I  shall  follow  to  Brugh  of  the  Boyne,  whither 
thou  shalt  take  my  dear  one,"  and  he  bade  a  sorrowful 
and  most  loving  farewell  to  Grainne.  Angus  threw 
around  her  his  magic  mantle,  under  cover  of  which 
they  flew  away  invisible  to  the  watchful  Fianna. 

The  clear  voice  of  Diarmuid  was  heard  speaking  then 
to  Fionn  : 

"Since  thou  art  resolved  to  encompass  my  death, 
why  should  I  fear  to  meet  it  now  or  at  any  other  time  ? 
Yet  before  thou  shalt  lay  me  low  on  the  sward,  O  chief- 
tain, many  of  thy  hirelings  shall  wend  before  me 
through  the  dark  gates.  Often  in  the  press  of  battle 
did  I  shelter  thee,  and  when  leaving  the  field  I  was 
ever  behind,  thy  shield  and  thy  friend,  nor  is  it  meet 
to-day  that  thou  should 'st  be  arrayed  against  me.  Yet, 
be  it  so,  I  shall  not  fall  tamely  nor  in  dishonour." 

"Truly  doth  Diarmuid  speak,"  said  Oscar.  "Let  him 
have  mercy  and  forgiveness,  for  he  hath  suffered 
much." 


PURSUIT   OF  DIARMUID   AND  GRAINNE.  57 

"Neither  peace  nor  forgiveness  shall  I  grant  him," 
answered  Fionn;  "his  head  must  be  eric  for  the  injury 
he  hath  done  me. ' ' 

"Shame  on  thee  for  that  speech,"  did  Oscar  reply  to 
the  grim  and  jealous  old  man.  "  And  now  I  take  the 
body  and  life  of  Diarmuid  into  my  keeping,  under  the 
protection  of  my  knighthood  and  valour,  so  that  from 
henceforth  no  man  in  Eirinn  dare  harm  him.  Come 
down  in  safety,  O  Diarmuid,  my  friend  and  brother; 
Oscar  is  here  to  give  pledge  for  thy  keeping." 

Then  Diarmuid,  walking  carefully  along  a  thick 
branch  unseen  until  he  was  beyond  the  circle  of  the 
waiting  warriors,  sprang  forward  and  downward  with 
a  graceful  airy  bound,  and  alighted  outside  the  host 
that  stood  with  joined  hands  round  the  tree-trunk,  and 
in  a  moment  he  was  distant  from  the  reach  of  sword 
and  spear.  After  him  came  Oscar,  before  whose 
threatening  backward  glances  the  pursuing  Fianna  fell 
back  afraid. 

So  the  two  heroes  travelled  together  to  Brugh  of  the 
Boyne,  where  Angus  and  Grainne  waited  their  coming, 
and  Diarmuid's  sweet  lady  almost  swooned  with  joy  in 
her  gladness  at  beholding  him  again. 

The  passionate  wrath  grew  yet  more  active  in  the 
soul  of  Fionn  when  he  saw  Oscar  and  Diarmuid  depart 
together,  and  he  vowed  that  the  latter  should  not 
escape  his  vengeance  any  longer.  Leaving  the  Wood 
of  Dooras  he  marched  to  Allen  and  gave  orders  that  his 
best  ship  should  be  made  ready  and  provisioned  for  a 
voyage.  Now  this  voyage  to  Tir  Tairnngire  on  which 
he  set  forth  was  to  his  old  nurse,  an  old  woman  well 
skilled  in  magic,  to  whom  he  related  his  cause  of  en- 
mity against  O'Duibhne,  and  his  will  that  means 
should  be  found  to  bring  his  enemy  into  safe  custody. 


58  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

She  promised  to  abet  him  in  his  evil  designs,  and  re- 
turned with  the  company  to  Brugh  of  the  Boyne,  en- 
veloped in  a  thick  mist,  so  that  no  man  in  Eirinn  knew 
of  their  arrival. 

It  so  chanced  that  Diarmuid  hunted  alone  in  the  forest 
that  day  without  Oscar,  which  being  known  to  the 
witch-hag,  she  caused  herself  to  fly  into  the  air  by 
magic  on  a  water-lily  leaf,  having  by  her  spells  turned 
it  into  a  broad  flat  millstone  with  a  hole  in  the  middle. 
She  floated  straight  on,  borne  along  by  the  clear,  cold 
wind,  until  she  hovered  straight  above  the  hero,  and 
began  to  aim  deadly  darts  at  him  through  the  hole. 
This  was  the  worst  distress  Diarmuid  ever  endured,  for 
the  darts  having  had  venomous  spells  breathed  over 
them,  stung  him  through  his  shield  and  armour,  so  that 
no  part  of  him  was  likely  to  escape  from  their  piercing. 
Seeing  that  death  was,  indeed,  his  portion  unless  he 
slew  the  wicked  enchantress,  he  seized  the  Ga-derg, 
and,  leaning  backward,  flung  it  with  sure  aim  at  the 
millstone.  It  flew  right  through  the  hole,  piercing  the 
heart  of  the  hag,  who  fell  lifeless  at  his  feet.  He  be- 
headed her  and  brought  the  vile  head  to  Angus  Oge, 
relating  to  him  and  Grainne  the  story  of  their  wonder- 
ful encounter  and  his  escape. 

Angus  meanwhile,  seeing  that  the  quarrel  between 
Fionn  and  Diarmuid  could  not  go  on  in  this  way  for 
ever,  went  to  the  Chieftain  of  the  Fianna  and  invited 
him  to  make  peace.  Fionn,  knowing  well  that  he  had 
been  worsted  in  every  attempt  made  against  Diarmuid 's 
life,  consented,  for  he  was  weary  of  the  quarrel  and  of 
the  loss  of  his  brave  men.  Then  Angus  approached 
King  Cormac  MacArt  with  the  same  intentions,  and 
he  also  agreed  to  be  at  peace  with  O'Duibhne,  being 
sorrowful  at  the  woe  and  trouble  arising  from  the  en- 
mity between  these  warriors. 


PURSUIT   OF  DIARMUID   AND  GRAINNE.  59 

Afterwards  the  Druid  returned  to  Brugh  and  told 
Diarmuid  the  result  of  his  embassy.  The  latter  stipu- 
lated that  he  should  be  reinstated  in  his  father's  pos- 
sessions and  land — namely,  the  cantred  of  O'Duibhne 
without  rent  or  tribute  to  the  King  of  Eirinn,  also  the 
cantred  of  Ben-Damis — that  is,  Ducarn  of  Leinster. 
These  two  to  be  granted  to  him  by  Fionn,  and  a  restric- 
tion made  that  neither  MacCumhaill  nor  any  of  the 
Fianna  were  to  hunt  over  them  without  leave.  And 
from  the  King  of  Eirinn  he  demanded  the  cantred  of 
Kesh-Corran  as  dowry  with  his  daughter  Grainne. 

Again  Angus  went  to  Fionn  and  afterwards  to  King 
Cormac  MacArt  with  these  conditions.  And  they  were 
granted,  so  that  peace  was  made  between  all,  and  the 
land  became  once  more  restful  and  law-abiding. 

Then  Diarmuid  and  Grainne  went  to  live  in  Kesh- 
Corran,  far  away  from  Fionn  and  Cormac,  building 
themselves  there  a  house  called  Rath-Grainne,  in  which 
they  abode  many  years  in  quiet  and  joy.  And  in  time 
there  came  to  them  four  sturdy  sons  and  one  little 
daughter,  plenty  and  prosperity  flowed  upon  them,  so 
that  people  said  there  was  no  man  of  his  time  so  rich 
in  gold  and  silver  and  jewels,  in  sheep  and  in  herds  of 
cattle,  as  Diarmuid  of  the  Bright  Face. 


THE 

Death  of  Diarmuid  O'DuibDiR. 


The  Death  of  Diarmuid  0  Duibhne. 

NOW,  when  many  happy  years  had  passed  over 
Diarmuid  and  his  wife  in  their  home  of  Rath* 
Grainne,  in  the  cantred  of  Kesh-Corran,  a  great 
loneliness  fell  upon  the  Princess  for  a  sight  of  her  own 
people,  and  she  said  to  Diarmuid — 

11  Since  the  wealth  of  the  world  hath  flown  upon  us, 
O  beloved,  and  the  splendour  of  our  house  hath  been 
sung  of  far  and  near,  it  is  not  meet  that  the  two  great- 
est men  in  Eirinn — my  father,  King  Cormac,  and 
Fionn  MacCumhaill — should  never  have  honoured  it 
with  their  presence,  and  extolled  its  beauty  and  rich- 
ness. Mine  eyes  have  never  met  the  eyes  of  my  father 
since  that  night  on  which  I  went  away  with  thee  from 
Tara,  and  my  heart  yearns  for  him  and  the  sound  of 
the  voices  of  mine  own  kindred." 

11  Alas,  dear  one,"  spake  Diarmuid,  "this  is  a  fateful 
wish  of  thine;  for  though  thy  father  and  Fionn  are  not 
at  war  with  me,  yet  none  the  less  do  they  harbour 
enmity  in  their  souls,  and  for  this  reason  have  I  made 
my  dwelling-  far  distant  from  the  paths  on  which  they 
tread." 

"But  surely  that  enmity  hath  vanished  with  all  the 
years  that  have  gone  over  us.  Nay,  shake  not  thy 
head,  love,  in  reproof,  for  I  would  that  thou  shouldst 
give  them  a  feast  in  Rath-Grainne,  and  so,  by  our  trust 
in  them,  we  shall  win  back  their  love  and  friendship  to 
ourselves  once  more." 

The    sweetness    of    her    flower-face  yet  held  the  old 


64  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

glamour  for  Diarmuid,  so,  to  give  his  lady  pleasure,  he 
consented  sorely  against  his  better  judgment,  and  he 
bade  his  servitors  prepare  for  the  great  feast,  that  it 
might  be  given  in  due  magnificence  to  the  illustrious 
guests  and  the  vast  array  that  should  accompany  them. 
The  preparations  extended  over  a  year,  and  when  all 
was  ready  Diarmuid  sent  messengers  praying  the  King 
to  come  with  his  house-folk,  and  Fionn  with  the  chief 
men  of  his  Fenian  army.  So  they  came,  with  their 
followers,  their  horses  and  dogs,  and  abode  for  a  whole 
year  in  Rath-Grainne,  chasing  the  dappled  deer 
through  the  forest,  or  luring  the  silvery  fishes  from  the 
gray  stream  in  daytime,  and  listening  to  sweet  harp- 
songs  and  bardic  chanting  while  twilight  trembled 
upon  the  verge  of  night,  and  night  gave  way  to  the 
first  cold  quiver  of  dawning. 

It  so  befell,  one  night  when  the  year  was  at  its  end, 
that  Diarmuid  heard  in  his  sleep  the  distant  yelping  of 
a  hound,  and  started  up  in  wakeful  alarm,  listening. 
Grainne  also  heard  it,  and  paled  as  she  threw  her  arms 
around  him,  asking  the  meaning  of  the  noise. 

"It  is  strange  and  unwanted  to  hear  at  midnight  the 
baying  of  a  hound,"  said  her  husband.  "I  must  wend 
forth  to  learn  the  cause  thereof." 

But  Grainne  held  him  closely  to  her,  so  that  he  could 
not  break  away  from  her  embrace. 

"It  is  surely  a  trap  laid  for  thee  by  the  De-danaans, 
Diarmuid  of  which  Angus  of  Brugh  knoweth  not,  so 
may  the  gods  keep  thee  safely.  Turn  thee  on  thy  bed 
ngain  and  sleep,  and  go  not  near  the  evil  thing." 

A  second  time  the  hollow-echoing  voice  broke  upon 
the  stillness  of  the  dark;  again  Diarmuid  made  to  seek 
it;  and  again  did  Grainne  hold  him  so  securely  that  he 
dared    not   go.     Then    sweet    sleep    and    forgetfulneas 


THE   DEATH   OF   DIARMUID  O'DUIBHNE.  65 

came  to  him  gently,  until  for  the  third  time  he  was 
wakened  by  the  same  sound.  It  was  day-dawn  then, 
and  he  arose,  saying,  ' 'There  is  now  no  danger  in  my 
going  to  find  this  hound,  for  it  is  the  full  light  of  day." 
And  Grainne  replied,  "Go  then,  my  hero,  but  take  with 
thee  the  Morallta,  the  sword  of  Manannan  MacLir,  and 
the  Ga-derg — the  spear  of  Angus,  so  that  no  mishap 
may  befall  thee." 

"But,"  said  Diarmuid,  wishing  to  make  the  matter 
appear  of  small  moment  to  her,  "surely  the  Begallta 
and  the  Ga-boi  shall  be  sufficient  protection  to  me. 
Besides,  I  shall  bring  my  good  wise  hound  Mac-an- 
Coill,  by  a  chain,  and  what  should  I  fear  when  he  is 
with  me,  and  my  weapons  are  in  my  hand." 

He  went  forth  into  the  cold  air  of  the  morning,  never 
stopping  until  he  had  reached  the  summit  of  Ben- 
Gulban.  Here  to  his  surprise  he  found  Fionn,  to  whom 
he  gave  no  greeting,  but  asked  what  chase  was  on,  and 
who  had  started  it.     The  other  replied — 

"It  was  not  I  who  started  this  chase,  Diarmuid,  but 
some  of  our  Fianna,  who,  rising  out  of  Rath-Grainne 
after  midnight,  chanced  upon  the  track  of  a  wild  boar, 
which  they  have  followed,  both  men  and  dogs,  though 
I  fain  would  have  held  them  back.  It  is  no  ordinary 
prey,  but  the  Boar  of  Ben-Gulban,  and  they  who  go 
after  him  are  bound  on  a  foolish  and  dangerous  pur- 
suit, and  already  he  hath  slain  thirty  of  their  number 
this  very  morning.  He  is  now  coming  up  the  moun- 
tain towards  us  with  the  Fianna  fleeing  before  him,  so 
do  thou  and  I  Diarmuid,  avoid  his  path,  and  leave  this 
hillock  to  him." 

"I  shall  not  leave  the  hillock  through  fear  of  any 
wild  boar,"  said  O'Duibhne,  "rather  should  it  give  me 
pleasure  to  deal  with  him  in  fight." 

E 


66  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

"Yet  thou  art  under  geasa  never  to  hunt  him,"  Fionn 
made  answer  gravely.     "Dost  thou  not  remember?" 

"I  do  not  remember.  Wherefore  was  this  bond  of 
geasa  laid  upon  me,  and  when?" 

"Then  I  must  tell  thee  of  it,"  said  Fionn,  "for 
clearly  do  I  recall  the  circumstance  and  the  manner  of 
its  happening-.  It  was  when  thou  wert  taken,  a  young 
child,  to  Brugh  of  the  Boyne  to  be  fostered  by  Angus 
Oge,  and  the  son  of  Angus's  steward  was  also  fostered 
with  thee  to  be  thy  playmate.  And  as  price  for  having 
his  son  admitted  into  such  noble  company,  the  steward 
agreed  to  send  each  day  to  Brugh  food  and  drink  for 
nine  men.  Therefore,  the  house  of  Angus  was  always 
open  to  thy  father,  Donn,  whenever  he  might  choose 
to  visit  it,  bringing  with  him  eight  others  to  partake  of 
this  food  and  drink.  In  his  absence  it  was  given  to 
the  attendants  of  Angus. 

"It  so  chanced  that  on  a  certain  day  Bran  Beag 
O'Bucan  reminded  me  how  it  was  forbidden  by  geasa 
that  I  should  sleep  more  than  nine  nights  at  Allen  of 
the  broad  hill-slopes,  and  as  it  was  already  the  tenth 
morning,  I  must  set  out  for  some  hospitable  harbour- 
age in  which  to  pass  the  dark  hours  of  the  next  night. 
Thy  father  came  with  me  to  Brugh  of  Boyne,  and 
there  we  saw  thee,  O  Diarmuid,  surrounded  with  the 
tender  love  of  Angus,  and  happy  in  the  company  of  thy 
playmate,  who  was  much  beloved  by  the  people  of  thy 
foster-father.  This  aroused  a  demon  of  jealousy  in  the 
heart  of  Donn,  that  the  respect  due  to  thee  should  be 
shared  by  another.  Not  long  after  that  a  quarrel 
arose  between  two  of  my  staghounds  over  some  broken 
meat  that  was  thrown  them,  and  the  confusion  in  the 
hall  drove  the  women  and  the  lesser  people  in  the  place 
to  fly  in  terror.     In  his  fear,  thy  playmate  fled  to  thy 


THE  DEATH  OF   DIARMUID  O'DUIBHNE.  67 

father,  creeping  between  his  knees,  when  Donn,  giving 
the  child  a  mighty,  powerful,  strong  squeeze,  killed 
him  on  the  spot,  and  cast  him  under  the  feet  of  the 
staghounds.  Afterwards  the  steward  came,  and  find- 
ing his  son  dead,  gave  vent  to  a  long  and  very  pitiful 
cry.     Then  he  approached  me  and  said — 

"  '  Of  all  the  men  in  this  house  to-night,  O  Fionn, 
I  have  indeed  come  worst  out  of  this  uproar,  since  I 
find  my  child,  and  only  son,  dead  before  me.  Thou 
dost  owe  me  eric  for  his  death,  because  thy  hounds 
have  slain  him.' 

"I  bade  him  examine  the  body  of  his  son,  saying 
that  if  he  found  trace  of  a  hound's  tooth  thereon  I 
should  pay  him  whatever  eric  he  might  demand.  He 
discovered  no  such  trace,  but,  since  the  boy's  life  had 
been  taken,  he  laid  me  under  fearful  bonds  of  Druidical 
geasa  to  find  out  the  guilty  one.  I  asked  for  a  chess- 
board and  water  to  be  brought  me,  and,  having  washed 
my  hands,  put  my  thumb  under  my  tooth  of  wisdom, 
so  that  the  truth  was  revealed  to  me  of  the  death  of 
the  boy  and  the  cruel  deed  done  by  thy  father.  Not 
wishing  to  make  it  known,  I  myself  offered  eric,  but 
the  steward  demanded  I  should  tell  him  the  revelation 
that  had  come  to  me,  and  I  did  so.  Whereupon  he 
said — 

' '  '  There  is  no  man  here  who  could  easier  pay  me 
eric  for  this  murder  than  Donn  himself.  Hear  my 
demand,  O  Fionn,  and  Angus,  and  noble  knights.  Let 
the  son  of  Donn  be  placed  between  my  knees  to  be 
dealt  with  as  my  son  was  dealt  with,  and  if  the  lad 
gets  off  safe  I  shall  follow  the  matter  up  no  further. ' 

"  At  this  Angus  waxed  very  wroth,  and  thy  father 
would  have  struck  off  the  steward's  head  but  that  I 
intervened.       Then  the  latter,  stepping  aside,  brought 


68  IN   THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

forth  a  magic  wand  of  sorcery  and  struck  his  son  with 
it,  changing  him  in  the  instant  into  a  great  bristling 
wild  boar,  having  neither  ears  nor  tail.  He  cried  out  in 
fierce  accents,  '  I  conjure  thee,  O  Boar,  to  have  the 
same  length  of  life  as  Diarmuid  O'Duibhne,  and  it  is  my 
will  that  by  thee  he  shall  fall  at  last. '  As  he  finished, 
the  savage  animal  rushed  out  of  the  open  doorway,  nor 
did  one  of  us  note  the  path  he  took.  In  dire  trouble, 
Angus  gave  thee  commands  never  to  hunt  a  boar,  O 
Diarmuid,  and  this  one  now  rushing  towards  us  is  that 
same  ferocious  Boar  of  Ben-Gulban,  so  I  beg  thee  now 
to  leave  the  hill  in  time  lest  he  meet  us  here." 

"Not  so,"  said  Diarmuid,  "not  so,  Fionn.  If  thou 
wilt  but  lend  me  thy  hound  Bran  to  help  my  dog  Mac- 
an-Coill,  I  shall  stay  to  welcome  him." 

"I  will  not  leave  my  hound  with  thee,"  replied 
Fionn,  "for  Bran  hath  often  before  chased  the  Boar, 
and  but  barely  escaped  with  his  life.  Now  I  shall  de- 
part, for  here  he  comes  rushing  like  a  demon  in  fury." 

On  the  summit  of  the  hillock  Diarmuid  stood  waiting, 
and  suddenly  it  struck  upon  his  mind  that  Fionn  had 
planned  this  encounter  for  him,  so  that  he  might  meet 
his  doom.  Then  the  Boar  came  panting  up.  Diarmuid 
slipped  Mac-an-Coill  from  his  leash  swiftly,  but  the 
dog  turned  tail,  and  fled  far  away  at  sight  of  the 
enemy. 

"Ah,  woe  unto  him  who  doth  not  heed  his  wife's 
counsel,"  murmured  the  knight,  "for  Grainne  bade  me 
at  early  morn  to-day  take  with  me  the  Morallta  and 
the  Ga-derg,  and  now  I  find  myself  alone  and  at  the 
mercy  of  this  savage  beast,  with  weapons  that  do  not 
suit  the  conflict." 

He  put  his  white,  ruddy-nailed  finger  into  the  silken 
string  of  the  Ga-boi  and  threw  it  at  the  Boar,  striking 


THE  DEATH   OF   DIARMUID  O'DUIBHNE.  63 

him  in  the  centre  of  his  forehead.  But  no  blood  issued 
forth,  nor  was  any  wound  made  in  the  toughness  of 
his  hide.  Then  O'Duibhne  drew  the  Begallta  from  its 
sheath,  hitting  the  Boar  a  strong  heavy  stroke  across 
its  back.  The  sword  broke  into  two  pieces,  yet  not 
one  bristle  was  cut  by  the  blow.  The  beast  made  a 
spring  upon  Diarmuid,  tripping  him  and  lifting  him  up 
into  the  air,  so  that  he  fell,  as  one  might  sit  a  horse, 
astride  it.  Thus  seated,  he  was  carried  in  a  quick  wild 
rush  down  the  hill  and  far  away  until  they  reached  the 
Falls  of  Assaroe,  across  which  the  Boar  gave  three 
nimble  leaps;  but,  finding  it  could  not  shake  off  Diar- 
muid, it  bore  him  back  to  the  crest  of  the  mountain 
again.  Here  it  gave  one  mighty  cast,  and  hurled  the 
warrior  from  its  back,  when,  springing  upon  him  like 
a  flash  of  lightning,  it  gored  him  sorely  with  its  sharp 
wicked  tusks.  Yet  ere  his  strength  left  him,  in  his 
woeful  extremity,  Diarmuid  made  one  blow  with  the  hilt 
of  his  sword,  which  he  still  chanced  to  hold  in  his  hand, 
at  the  Boar,  dashing  its  brains  out.  It  fell  dead  beside 
him  on  the  sward,  and  here  Fionn  and  the  Fianna, 
coming  up  shortly  afterwards,  found  them. 

Diarmuid  lay  in  the  death-agony  as  Fionn  bent  over 
him  with  bitter  speech,  saying — the  cruel  old  man — 

"It  delights  me  much  to  see  thee  in  this  stress,  O 
Diarmuid,  and  I  would  that  all  the  women  of  Eirinn 
were  gazing  upon  thee  also.  Where  is  thy  beauty  that 
won  their  hearts,  and  the  light  of  thy  brown  eyes  that 
drew  the  blushes  up  into  their  soft  cheeks?  Gone,  all 
gone,  and  thou  art  now  pale  and  deformed,  with  the 
blemish  of  the  Boar's  tusks  upon  thy  straight  supple 
body." 

And  Diarmuid,  speaking  in  pain,  answered,  "  Alas,  O 
Fionn,   these  words  are  from  thy  lips  only,  riot  of  a 


70  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

surety  from  thy  heart.  It  is  in  thy  power  to  heal  me 
if  it  be  thy  pleasure." 

"And  how  should  I  heal  thee?" 

"Easily,  in  truth,  for  when  thou  didst  receive  the  gift 
of  foreknowledge  at  the  Boyne,  thou  didst  also  receive 
another  gift,  namely — That  if  thou  didst  give  a  drink 
of  water  from  the  closed  palms  of  thy  hands  to  anyone 
wounded  or  in  sickness,  he  should  immediately  be 
healed." 

"And  v.'herefore  should  I  heal  thee,  Diarmuid?  Surely 
thou  of  all  men  dost  not  deserve  it  from  me." 

"Nay,  Fionn,  thou  well  knowest  that  I  do  deserve 
this  boon  of  life  from  thee,"  said  Diarmuid,  wearily, 
"for  when  thou  didst  go  with  the  Fianna  to  the  banquet 
in  the  house  of  the  Derca,  and  Carbri  of  the  Liffey  and 
his  host  surrounded  the  palace,  intent  on  slaying  thee, 
throwing  firebrands  over  the  roof  to  burn  us  within  the 
walls,  I  bade  thee  sit  at  the  feast,  and  sallied  forth  my- 
self to  route  them.  Heavy  was  the  slaughter  I  dealt 
among  thy  foes  that  night,  and  had  I  asked  thee  then 
for  a  drink  thou  wouldst  have  given  it  to  me  gladly. 
Just  as  much  do  I  deserve  it  now." 

"Didst  thou  not  allure  Grainne  away  from  Tara  on 
my  bridal  night,  when  I  had  set  thee  as  guard  over  her, 
having  full  trust  in  thy  fidelity?" 

"Not  mine  the  blame,  O  son  of  Cumhaill,  for 
Grainne  placed  upon  me  heavy  geasa  which  I  dared  not 
disobey;  nor  would  I  have  broken  through  her  bonds 
for  all  the  gold  in  the  world.  And  the  judgments  of 
Oisin  and  Oscar  were  with  me  that  night  of  omen,  so 
it  is  false  what  thou  sayest  of  my  betrayal  of  thee. 
Nor  dost  thou  forget — thy  memory  holds  all  things 
in  its  caverns — how  Midac,  the  son  of  Colga,  made  a 
feast  for  thee  in  the  Fairy  Palace  of  the  Quicken  Trees, 


THE  DEATH   OF   DIARMUID  O'DUIBHNE.  71 

and  brought  secretly  to  the  Palace  of  the  Island  the 
King  of  the  World  and  the  three  Kings  of  the  Island 
of  the  Torrent,  with  an  immense  host,  on  purpose  to 
destroy  thee  and  the  Fianna.  And  he  caused  to  be 
placed  under  thee  some  clay  from  the  Island  of  the 
Torrent,  so  that  thy  feet  and  hands  were  fastened  with 
foul  spells  to  the  ground,  and  thou  couldst  not  move 
them,  while  the  King  of  the  World  was  preparing  a 
host  on  the  Island  to  come  and  cut  off  thy  head — help- 
less as  thou  wert.      It  was  then  that  I  hurried  to  thee, 

0  Fionn,  and,  learning  of  thy  deadly  strait  in  the 
Palace  of  the  Quicken  Trees,  went  down  to  the  ford  to 
defend  it,  and  engaged  in  single  combat  with  the  three 
dragon-like  Kings  of  the  Island  of  the  Torrent,  ven- 
turing my  life  and  bearing  their  attacks  for  love  of 
thee.  Their  blood,  dripping  from  their  severed  heads, 
broke  the  spell  that  sealed  thee  so  miserably  to  the 
ground,  and  had  I  asked  thee  for  a  drink  that  night 
thou  wouldst  not  have  denied  it  to  me.  That  is  but 
one  of  the  many  difficulties  in  which  I  stood  thy  friend 
and  protector — thy  shield  and  spear.  Now,  now,  when 
the  shadow  of  death  is  upon  me,  I  see  clearly  what 
before  had  been  unseen.  Thou  hast  made  foes,  O 
Fionn,  many  and  powerful,  and  the  end  is  not  yet. 
Shortly  there  will  come  dire  distress  upon  the  Fianna, 
yet  not  for  thee  do  I  grieve,  but  for  Oisin  and  Oscar, 
and  the  rest  of  my  fond,  faithful  comrades.  Thou 
shalt  sorely  lack  me  yet,  O  chieftain,  and  Oisin  shall  be 
lonely  through  many  long  years  for  loss  of  me." 

Here  the  sorrowful,  angry  voice  of  Oscar  inter- 
rupted the  dying  hero,  and  his  eyes  flamed  through 
tears  at  his  grandsire's  relentless  frown.  "  Though  I 
am  more  nearly  akin  to  thee  than  to  Diarmuid,  O  Fionn, 

1  will  not  suffer  thee  to  refuse  him  a  drink  in  his  ex- 


72  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

tremity,  nor  should  any  other  man  who  treated  him  so 
leave  this  place  alive  from  the  strong  hand  of  my 
wrath." 

"I  know  not  where  there  is  a  well  upon  this  moun- 
tain," said  Fionn. 

"Untrue  is  thy  speech,"  replied  Diarmuid,  "for  but 
nine  paces  from  thee  is  the  best  well  of  pure  water  in 
the  world." 

Straightway,  Fionn  went  to  the  well,  and,  stooping, 
raised  his  two  hands  filled  with  the  water;  but  he  had 
not  reached  more  than  half  the  distance  to  Diarmuid 
when  he  let  the  water  fall. 

"It  was  of  thine  own  will  thou  didst  let  it  fall,  and  not 
by  accident,  O  Fionn,"  cried  Diarmuid;  "that  I  testify." 

A  second  time  the  chieftain  of  the  Fianna  went  for  the 
life-giving  drink,  and  a  second  time,  when  he  had 
reached  the  same  spot,  he  let  it  fall,  having  thought 
upon  Grainne.  At  sight  thereof  Diarmuid  hove  a 
piteous  sigh  of  anguish,  but  Oscar  thundered,  "If  thou 
dost  not  bring  water  speedily,  I  swear  before  my  arms 
that  thou  shalt  not  leave  this  hillock  alive,"  and  Fionn 
returned  to  the  well  the  third  time,  bringing  the 
draught  steadily,  but  ere  he  reached  the  spot  Diarmuid 
lay  back  with  a  sigh  upon  the  green  grass,  and  life  de- 
parted from  him.  Then  a  wild  wailing  and  three  great 
shouts  rose  up  from  the  Fianna  of  Eirinn  for  Diarmuid 
O'Duibhne.  Oscar  gazed  fiercely  upon  Fionn,  ex- 
claiming, "Now  indeed,  hast  thou  taken  from  us  the 
noblest  heart  in  all  the  land — my  friend  and  brother. 
And  would  that  thbu  thyself  lay  dead  here  instead  of 
him.  My  grief,  my  grief — our  mainstay  in  battle  is 
gone  for  ever.  Oh,  had  I  but  known  that  the  Boar  of 
Ben  Gulban  was  his  enemy,  never  should  this  chase 
have  been  started  to-day." 


THE  DEATH   OF   DIARMUID  o'DUIBHNEw  73 

And  Oscar  wept  bitterly,  also  Oisin  and  Dering  and 
MacLuga,  for  Diarmuid  was  faithfully  loved  by  all. 

"Let  us  depart,"  said  Fionn,  in  the  midst  of  the 
clamour,  "lest  Angus  Of  the  Boyne  should  come  and 
deal  us  harm  for  this;"  and  he  went  down  the  slopes  of 
the  hill,  leading  Diarmuid 's  dog,  Mac-an-Coill,  in  leash 
beside  him.  But  Oisin  and  Oscar  and  Caoilte  and  Mac- 
Luga returned  to  throw  their  four  mantles  about  the 
dead  warrior,  with  many  touching  words  of  farewell. 

Grainne,  watching  from  the  ramparts,  saw  their 
home-coming,  and  Fionn  holding  Diarmuid 's  dog  in 
leash.  Then  a  great  fear  burst  forth  in  her  heart,  for 
she  knew  that  were  Diarmuid  in  life  this  could  not 
happen,  and  she  fell  forward  in  a  swoon;  but  in  a  little 
time  she  awakened  out  of  it,  and  begged  Fionn  to  give 
her  back  the  hound,  Mac-an-Coill,  because  it  loved  her 
husband,  and  was  his  daily  companion. 

"Indeed,  I  shall  not,"  replied  the  chieftain,  "for  it 
is  little  enough  that  I  should  get  even  a  dog  from 
Diarmuid  O'Duibhne  in  compensation  for  all  the  evil  he 
hath  brought  upon  me." 

"Give  her  the  dog,  O  father,"  Oisin  commanded 
him,  "or  those  bitter  loud  cries  of  lamentation  of  her's 
shall  ring  in  thine  ears  for  ever. ' ' 

And,  stepping  forward,  he  drew  the  leash  from  the 
hand  of  Fionn,  placing  it  in  that  of  Grainne. 

She  bade  her  people  go  forth  up  the  mountain  and 
bring  down  the  body  of  her  slain  knight  and  lover,  so 
that  due  rites  might  be  shown  him  in  his  burial.  And 
when  the  company  had  gone  to  do  her  bidding,  they 
found  Angus  Oge  bending  in  woeful  grief  above  his 
dead  foster-son,  for  it  was  revealed  to  him  that  Diar- 
muid had  met  with  the  Boar  of  Ben  Gulban,  and  that 
the  curse  had  fallen  at  last.     So  he  came  upon  the  clear 


74  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

cold  wind  very  swiftly  to  the  mountain  summit,  and 
when  Grainne's  people  saw  him  caoining  there  they 
held  out  towards  him  the  rough  sides  of  their  shields  in 
token  of  peace.  Then  together  they  all  raised  three 
loud  piercing  cries,  which  were  heard  in  the  wastes  of 
the  firmament  and  from  end  to  end  of  the  five  provinces 
of  Eirinn. 

"Alas,  why  did  I  abandon  thee  even  for  once,  oh  son 
of  my  soul,"  moaned  Angus.  "Ever  since  thou  wert 
brought  to  me,  a  little  clinging  child,  have  I  cared  for 
and  guarded  thee  until  this  black  day.  And  why  did 
I  leave  thee  to  the  guileful  craft  of  Fionn,  O  Diarmuid 
of  the  Bright  Face?  Alas,  alas,  it  has  been  through 
my  neglect  thou  hast  suffered.  Pity  me,  oh,  pity  me, 
that  left  my  son  undefended  and  in  the  snare.  Yet, 
never  again  shall  he  be  apart  from  me,  for  now  I  bid 
ye,  O  mourners,  to  take  him  up  and  place  him  upon 
this  golden  bier,  so  that  I  may  carry  him  with  me  to 
Brugh  of  Boyne,  where,  though  I  cannot  restore  him 
to  life,  I  shall  bring  back  his  soul  into  his  body  each 
day,  and  hear  once  more  the  silver  music  of  his  voice." 

And  Grainne's  people  dared  not  disobey  Angus,  so 
they  watched  while  he  caused  their  master's  body  to  be 
taken  away  swiftly,  and  far  from  their  sight.  Then 
they  returned  with  the  message  to  Grainne,  who, 
grieving  sorely  at  first,  grew  content  in  the  end  that  it 
should  be  so,  knowing  the  love  that  was  in  the  heart 
of  Angus  for  Diarmuid. 

i 

And  happy  were  it  for  me  if  I  could  tell  of  Grainne's 
faithfulness  to  her  dead  lord  and  lover,  and  how  the 
long  years  of  her  widowhood  passed  in  tender,  regret- 
ful memories  of  him,  his  valour,  and  his  devotion,  who 


THE  DEATH   OF   DIARMUID  O'DUIBHNE.  75 

gave  up  all  for  love;  but,  alas,  it  was  not  so,  nor  shall 
her  name  be  surrounded  with  a  halo  of  praise,  .  as 
Deirdre's  will  be  until  the  ages  shall  end  in  Eirinn.  For 
though  she  drew  her  children  about  her  after  their  dead 
father  had  been  borne  to  the  Palace  of  Angus,  and  ex- 
horted them  in  her  sweet,  clear  voice,  "O,  dear  chil- 
dren, thy  father  hath  been  slain  by  Fionn  MacCumhaill 
against  his  covenants  of  peace  with  him,  and  now  I 
pray  that  ye  will  avenge  him  well,  and  I  will  myself 
portion  out  your  inheritance  among  ye,  that  is,  his 
arms  and  his  armour  and  his  various  sharp  weapons, 
that  ye  may  be  led  to  feats  of  bravery  and  valour  like- 
wise. Go  now  and  learn  carefully  all  practice  of  war- 
like skill  until  ye  have  reached  your  full  strength,  and 
then  return  to  combat  with  your  father's  enemy  and 
mine,"  she  was  the  first  in  after  days  to  revoke  the 
vengeful  tenor  of  her  speech. 

Fionn,  hearing  that  the  youths  were  pledged  to  en- 
mity towards  him,  grew  more  bitter  still  in  his  hatred 
of  the  sons  of  Diarmuid  than  he  had  ever  been  towards 
their  father,  but  in  his  plots  against  them  no  aid  came 
to  him  from  the  Fianna.  Rather  did  Oisin,  the  silver- 
tongued,  condemn  him  in  reproving  eloquence,  refus- 
ing to  lift  his  sword  in  this  cause,  which  grieved  Fionn 
exceedingly,  since  Oisin  was  his  pride  and  best  be- 
loved. Yet  the  cunning  old  warrior,  well  versed  in 
knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  and  more  particularly, 
through  long  experience,  of  the  heart  of  a  vain  woman, 
saw  that  only  by  help  of  Grainne  herself  could  he  hope 
for  peace,  and  the  further  support  and  allegiance  of  the 
Fianna,  who  were  almost  to  a  man  wroth  beyond 
measure  with  him  for  his  cruel  misdeeds.  So  he  came 
to  her  at  Rath  Grainne,  without  the  cognisance  of  his 
army,   and    greeted    her   cunningly,  craftily,  and  with 


76 


IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 


sweet  words,  to  which  she  replied  in  bitter,  sharp- 
tongued  reproach,  saying  that  the  sight  of  him  was 
hateful  to  her.  But  Fionn  ceased  not  striving  to  pla- 
cate her  anger,  and  continued  his  gentle  loving  dis- 
course until  he  persuaded  her  to  come  back  with  him 
to  his  Palace  at  Allen,  where  the  Fianna  were.  Oh, 
fickleness  of  one  woman  that  shall  cast  a  slur  upon  all 
women  to  the  end  of  time.  When  the  Fianna  saw  her 
coming  with  Fionn  through  the  gates,  a  willing  cap- 
tive, they  raised  a  great  and  most  insulting  shout  of 
derision,  so  that  Grainne  bowed  her  head  in  shame  at 
the  scorn  in  those  warrior  eyes. 

One  only  spoke,  and  it  was  Oisin.  He  said,  "Well, 
we  trow,  O  Fionn,  that  thou  wilt  keep  Grainne  safe 
this  time  from  henceforth.  Nor  shall  any  man  in 
Eirinn  desire  her  from  thee." 


Cbe  Sbcarina  of  tbe  Fairp 
fleeces. 


The  Shearing  of  the  Fairy  Fleeces. 

THE  King  had  listened  day  after  day  to  the 
rambling  tales  that  were  brought  him  by  the 
mountain  people  and  the  people  of  the  valley, 
and  while  he  watched  the  fear  that  lurked  behind  their 
wide-open  eyes  his  own  narrowed  in  thought  as  to  how 
this  panic  that  had  seized  upon  his  subjects  could  be 
assuaged.  That  there  was  in  truth  some  serious  cause 
for  their  misery  of  mind  he  could  not  doubt.  He  had 
hearkened  with  them  to  the  bleating  of  the  phantom 
sheep  echoing  clear  from  the  high-peaked  summits  far 
above;  and  gazing  from  the  doorway  of  his  royal  dun 
he  had  seen  the  snow-white  flocks  moving  hither  and 
thither  over  the  heather  where  the  mountain  folk  had 
their  homes  in  the  mist-wreathed  caves.  His  Druids 
had  sought  knowledge  from  the  stars  in  their  night 
vigils,  and  returned  with  awed  faces  to  tell  the  futility 
of  their  research. 

"It  is  not  for  us  to  probe,  O  King,  the  designs  of  the 
Immortals.  The  hand  of  Manannan-Mac-Lir  is  visible 
in  the  heavens,  and  these  are  his  fairy  flocks  that  ap- 
pear before  the  eyes  of  men  but  rarely  in  the  passing  of 
the  ages.  Whether  it  be  for  good  or  evil  that  he  hath 
shown  them  to  us  now  we  know  not,  save  that  it  were 
unwise  to  meddle  with  the  manifestations  of  the 
Gods." 

"Alas!  my  people  are  withering  away  before  mine 
eyes,"  said  the  King,  "and  the  sick  are  groaning  on 
their   couches   while   the   white   fear   clutches  at  their 


80  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

heart-strings.  Can  nought  be  done  to  appease  the 
anger  of  the  Sea-god,  or  can  ye  discover  therefore  his 
wrath  is  turned  against  us?" 

"We  shall  go  back  to  our  vigils,  O  Monarch,  and  in 
the  dawning  bring  thee  whatever  tidings  may  be  vouch- 
safed to  us,"  they  answered  humbly,  wending  forth 
from  the  royal  presence;  weary  because  of  their  long 
night  watches,  yet  eager  to  fathom  the  mystery  of  the 
dread  apparition  that  had  caused  such  woe  to  the 
people  of  Sorcha. 

Then  the  King  bent  his  thoughtful  gaze  on  the  kneel- 
ing throng,  looking  longest  at  the  shaggy  mountain- 
eers clad  in  their  barbaric  garments  of  fur  and  hard- 
tanned  leather.  Their  hair  and  beards  grew  in  wild 
profusion,  and  on  their  hunting-spear  handles  were 
traces  of  newly  dried  blood.  They  began  to  talk 
hurriedly,  and  in  uncouth  speech,  lifting  up  hands  of 
supplication. 

"What  is  it  that  ye  have  seen,  and  what  do  ye 
dread?"  spake  the  King  to  them  in  soothing  wise,  and 
like  the  roar  of  a  tumbling  torrent  came  the  clamour  of 
their  words. 

"We  have  heard  round  our  homes  at  twilight  in  the 
high  secret  places  of  the  hills,  O  King,  the  bleating 
from  a  great  sheep-fold,  and  when  we  followed  whither 
it  led,  we  became  enveloped  in  clouds  of  mist  so  that 
many  of  our  number,  slipping  from  the  narrow  path- 
ways, were  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  rocks  below.  The 
bleating  and  trampling  of  feet  still  came  to  us  out  of 
the  mist  as  if  a  multitude  were  behind,  and  when  we 
stretched  our  arms  into  it,  it  broke  apart  and  floated 
upward  like  huge  flakes  of  snow.  Now  the  sound  is 
heard  all  over  the  mountains,  so  that  our  people  are 
frozen  in  the  horror  of  a  great  fear,  and  dare  not  ven- 


THE    SHEARING   OF   THE  FAIRY    FLEECES.  81 

ture  forth  to  kill  the  wild  animals  that  give  them  food. 
Our  flocks  have  fled  down  into  the  valley,  even  as  we 
have  done,  in  terror.  The  hunger  is  on  us,  and  the 
sickness  hath  caught  our  women  and  little  ones.  And 
the  demnaeoir  (the  demons  of  the  air)  are  shrieking 
round  us  in  the  winds,  and  the  geinte  glindi  (the  wild 
people  of  the  glens),  are  treading  in  our  footsteps 
everywhere,  until  we  know  not  where  to  go,  and  for 
very  horror  pray  the  Gods  to  give  us  death." 

"And  we,"  said  the  dwellers  of  the  valley,  "also  live 
in  the  shadow  of  this  great  fear,  O  King,  for  our  eyes 
are  ever  turned  upward  towards  the  mountains,  while 
our  fields  are  left  untilled  and  our  work  undone  because 
of  this  cruel  fascination  that  is  on  us.  The  bean-sidhe's 
wail  is  heard  from  end  to  end  of  the  valley,  chasing 
sleep  from  us  in  the  night  hours,  and  the  dogs  shrink 
shuddering  with  bristling  hair,  when  our  women  would 
drive  them  from  the  hearth-stones  into  the  open  day." 

The  King  moaned  wearily,  rocking  from  side  to  side 
on  his  gilded  throne.  His  heart  was  warm  for  even 
the  least  of  his  subjects,  and  his  wise  ruling  had  kept 
peace  in  the  land  for  many  years.  This  disaster  was 
none  of  his  bringing,  nor  did  one  of  those  fear-drawn 
faces  look  at  him  with  eyes  of  blame. 

"When  the  next  dawn  breaks,"  he  said  to  them  in 
tender  tones,  "I  shall  climb  to  the  summit  of  those 
high  hills  with  ye,  my  children,  and  if  the  Gods  be  kind 
mayhap  Manannan-Mac-Lir  will  grant  speech  to  me. 
Moreover,  my  Druids  shall  offer  gifts  in  propitiation — 
gold  and  silver  and  precious  stones — aye  holocausts  of 
cattle  from  my  pastures  that  this  curse  may  be  taken 
off  me  and  mine." 

And  kissing  the  hem  of  his  royal  robe  they  left  the 
hall  of  audience,  hushed  into  silence  by  the  sorrow  in 
the  voice  of  the  King. 

F 


82  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

The  territory  of  Sorcha  lay  within  a  long  high  chain 
of  mountains  which  guarded  it  on  east  and  north  and 
west,  but  sloped  to  the  south,  where  the  sea  broke  on 
a  white  sandy  beach  in  the  shelter  of  great  protecting 
cliffs.  There  the  King's  royal  house  stood  like  a 
sentinel,  and  from  his  watch-tower  the  vast  horizon 
was  visible  so  that  no  encroachment  of  hostile  ships 
could  come  unseen  within  reach  of  the  land;  nor  could 
one  single  stranger  cross  the  outer  boundary  unknown 
to  the  captains  of  the  army,  so  closely  and  minutely 
was  the  territory  kept  secure  from  foreign  invasion. 
It  was  through  his  exceeding  care  for  his  people  and 
their  lands,  that  King  Feredach  had  gained  his  title  of 
the  Generous,  and  wide-spread  renown  had  haloed  his 
name  as  with  a  glory. 

Now  his  soul  had  grown  sick  within  him  at  the 
trouble  overshadowing  his  kingdom.  He  still  sat, 
after  the  last  suppliant  had  left  the  hall,  brooding  over 
the  inexplicable  panic  that  bade  fair  to  turn  his  beau- 
tiful fertile  country  into  waste  of  loneliness  and  want. 
As  he  leaned  forward,  his  grey  beard  sweeping  his 
breast,  and  his  eyes  glaring  glassily  downwards,  a 
stranger,  entering  the  wide  doorway,  came  up  the 
rush-strewn  floor  and  bent  in  salutation  before  him. 

"Hail!  O  King  Feredach,"  he  said,  "I  would  have 
speech  with  thee." 

The  King  lifted  his  eyes  and  saw  a  man  clad  in 
wonderful  garments  of  colour  like  the  changing  skin 
of  the  sea-snake,  and  round  his  waist  a  golden  snake 
was  coiled  for  girdle,  while  over  all  a  mantle  of  green, 
with  the  shifting  shining  hues  of  the  sea  in  moonlight, 
was  thrown,  which  trailed  behind  him  on  the  floor. 
His  hair  was  a  bright  ruddy  golden,  and  on  it  lay  a 
crown  of  wondrous  sea-weeds  still  sparkling  with  the 


THE    SHEARING   OF   THE  FAIRY    FLEECES.  83 

salt-moisture  of  the  deep.  His  face  was  young-  and 
fair,  and  open,  with  clear  quick-flashing-  eyes;  and  his 
height  was  beyond  that  of  any  man  in  Sorcha.  In  his 
hand  he  held  a  pair  of  immense  glittering  sharp  shears. 

"Who  art  thou?"  said  Feredach,  "and  how  comest 
thou  to  pass  my  guards  below,  for  no  man  enters  my 
presence  unannounced?" 

"Not  one  of  thy  guards  saw  me,  O  King,  for  they 
are  hiding  their  faces  from  the  sun,  and  their  ears  were 
deaf  to  my  footfalls.  I  have  travelled  far  to  take  from 
thy  people  the  panic  that  hath  fallen  on  them." 

"Thy  name?" 

"My  name  is  but  the  name  of  a  wanderer,  O  King,  a 
rover  of  the  sea;  a  vendor  of  marvellous  silks  and 
curios  from  many  lands.  Wherever  such  are  to  be 
found  I  follow  in  pursuit;  and  having  heard  how  thy 
kingdom  is  distressed  with  signs  and  tokens  of  the  en- 
mity of  the  Gods,  I,  who  know  no  fear,  have  come  to 
find  the  fairy  flock  and  shear  their  fleeces  so  that  thy 
misery  may  be  ended." 

"  'Twill  be  death  to  thee,"  said  the  King,  "since  no 
man  can  discover  them." 

"Yet  shall  J  find  their  hiding-places,"  spoke  the  sea- 
stranger,  "and  do  thou  bide  here  on  thy  throne  until  I 
return." 

At  the  command  in  his  voice  the  King  sat  moveless, 
nor  did  the  guards  ranged  down  the  audience-hall  seem 
to  see  or  hear. 


And  while  the  King  waited,  sitting  erect  as  a  statue 
of  stone,  morn  gave  place  to  noon,  and  noon  glided 
gently  towards  the  arms  of  sunset.  Then  when  the 
vast  portals  of  the  West  were  opened  for  the  passing 


84  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

of  the  Day  God,  the  stranger  re-entered  the  palace-hall 
in  the  radiance  of  the  fading  splendour.  In  his  arms 
he  held,  piled  high,  white  masses  of  finest  silky  wool, 
such  as  had  never  been  seen  before  in  Sorcha,  so  soft 
it  was,  so  great  in  length,  so  snowy  in  colour. 

He  held  the  fleeces  out  before  the  King.  "The 
blight  hath  gone  from  thy  people,  O  Feredach,  nor 
shall  the  bleating  of  the  flocks  molest  them  more.  Thy 
valleys  shall  grow  green  again,  and  the  wild  boar  re- 
turn to  thy  mountains.  For  me,  I  go  to  the  Land  of 
Eirinn — to  the  looms  of  the  De-Danaans  in  the  heart 
of  a  lonely  hill,  that  an  invisible  cloak  may  be  woven 
out  of  these  fleeces  for  my  foster-son,  the  young 
Champion  of  Uladh,  Cuchulainn.  It  shall  protect  him 
in  battle  from  wounds,  and  in  peace  from  sickness;  nor 
shall  aught  have  power  over  it  save  the  people  of  the 
Sea.  It  has  been  shorn  from  the  Sheep  of  Manannan, 
that  roam  invisible  over  many  mountains  of  the  world, 
and  whose  appearance  before  the  eyes  of  men  is 
attended  with  great  disaster — through  no  ill-will  of  the 
God's.     Fare  thee  well,  O  King,  my  task  is  finished." 

"Stay,  thou  wise  stranger,"  cried  Feredach,  grasp- 
ing at  the  sea-green  cloak,  but  his  hand  closed  upon 
empty  air,  and  instead  of  a  footfall  there  was  but 
faintly  heard  a  placid  murmur  as  of  waves  breaking 
upon  a  pebbly  strand. 


"It  was  Manannan-Mac-Lir,  himself,"  said  the 
Druids,  blanched  with  awe.  "It  was  the  Deity  of  the 
Waters,  for  as  we  looked  from  the  watch-tower  we 
saw  a  long  white  narrow  wave  creep  up  the  shore  even 
to  the  door  of  thy  dun,  O  King,  and  on  the  crest  of  it 
rose  and  fell  a  silver  sea-chariot,  with  four  white  swift- 


THE   SHEARING  OF   THE  FAIRY    FLEECES. 


85 


footed  horses  yoked  thereto,  into  which  he  stepped 
bearing  the  fleeces,  and  while  we  strained  our  eyes 
the  white  wave  subsided  into  the  ocean  with  a  high- 
splashing  of  reddened  foam  as  the  Sun  went  through 
the  Golden  Gates." 

" Praise  to  the  Gods,"  said  Feredach. 

"Praise.    And  to  thee,  O  King,"  chanted  the  Druids. 


CDe  King  of  Ireland's  Deatb= 
Place. 


The  King  of  Ireland's  Death-Place. 

THE  hearth  fires  were  blazing  high  in  the  hall  of 
King  Mongan,  of  Rathmore.  The  flickering 
torches  cast  a  fitful  glare  over  the  listening 
faces  of  many  warriors  who  leaned  breathlessly  for- 
ward to  catch  even  the  least  word  that  fell  from  the 
lips  of  Dalian  Forgiall,  the  far-famed  poet  and  satirist, 
and  writer  of  the  wonderful  elegy  on  Saint  Columcille. 
He  sat  on  the  left  hand  of  the  King;  the  Queen's  chair 
stood  to  the  right,  and  against  its  tall  carven  back 
Breothigern  rested  her  golden  head.  Her  beautiful 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  face  of  the  blind  poet  in  never- 
ceasing  wonder  at  the  marvellous  tales  he  unfolded 
night  after  night — from  Bealtaine  to  Samhain — for  the 
pleasure  of  the  King. 

"There  were  three  kings  reigning  together  in  Eirinn 
for  the  space  of  one  year — the  three  Fothad 
brothers,"  Mongan  said,  breaking  a  sudden  silence, 
"and  the  bards  are  doubtful  as  to  the  death  and  burial- 
place  of  the  most  famous  of  the  three,  Fothad  Airg- 
dech.     Dos't  thou  know  aught  of  this,  O  poet?" 

"He  was  slain  at  Duffry,  in  Leinster,  O  King,  and 
buried  near  the  spot  where  he  fell." 

"Not  so,"  cried  the  King,  interrupting  him.  "Not 
so.  It  is  false  enlightenment  thou  art  giving  me.  He 
fought  his  last  fight  in  our  own  Uladh,  and  sleeps  on  a 
green  hillside  therein — a  fitting  place  for  the  King  of 
Ireland's  bones  to  rest." 

Dalian    Forgiall    rose    in    fury  from  his  seat.       His 


90  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

brow  reddened,  and  his  voice  was  tipped  with  venom, 
so  that  the  tumbling,  thunderous  words  could  scarce 
make  way. 

"And  dost  thou  deny  me  my  knowledge,  O  King,  me 
who  am  versed  in  all  that  pertains  to  the  history  of  the 
dead  and  the  living  in  Eirinn.  Then  will  I  satirize 
thee,  and  thy  father,  thy  mother,  and  thy  grandfather, 
since  it  is  not  becoming  nor  just  that  thy  word  should 
be  taken  before  mine.  And  I  will  satirize  the  waters 
of  thy  country  so  that  no  fish  shall  live  or  be  caught  in 
them,  and  the  trees  that  no  fruit  may  be  borne  by 
them,  and  the  plains  that  they  may  remain  barren  of 
any  produce.  This  will  I  do,  Mongan  of  Uladh,  be- 
cause of  the  insult  thou  hast  shown  me." 

Here  the  sweet  voice  of  the  Queen  broke  in  upon  the 
ravings  of  the  old  man,  and  her  words  were  like  drop- 
pings of  honey,  or  the  tender  piping  of  a  linnet  in  a 
hidden  woodland  bower.  "Nay,  nay,"  she  said  sooth- 
ingly, "my  King  hath  no  desire  to  wound  thee  nor  vex 
thy  heart  with  anger  or  jealousy,  O  poet.  Satirize 
him  not,  I  pray  thee,  and  thy  bronze  gift-pot  shall  be 
filled  with  gold  and  silver  and  precious  jewels — even 
should  I  strip  my  neck  and  arms  of  these  glittering 
bands." 

"And  I,"  said  Mongan,  "promise  thee  the  value  of 
seven  bondmaids,  so  that  thou  cast  none  of  thy  spells 
upon  me  and  mine." 

Dalian  Forgiall's  face  was  set  in  stony  anger,  and 
from  his  lips  came  forth  no  sound. 

"Twice  seven  bondmaids;  three  times  seven," 
pleaded  the  King.  "Or  if  thou  wilt,  take  half  my  terri- 
tory— all  of  it — only  let  me  be  free  from  thy  blighting 
tongue." 

Still  the  poet  sat  as  a  carven  image,  unmoved  by  the 
alluring  bribe, 


THE    KING  OF   IRELAND'S  DEATH-PLACE.  91 

"All  I  posses,"  reiterated  Mong-an,  "save  my  own 
liberty  and  that  of  Breothig-ern,  my  Queen." 

Then  Dalian  Forgiall  spoke  at  last.  "One  thing- 
hath  saved  thee,  O  King- — thy  wife.  She  shall  be  my 
hostag-e  until  the  end  of  three  days,  and  if  within  that 
time  thou  hast  discovered  the  death-place  of  Fothad 
Airgdech  my  hold  upon  her  shall  be  resigned;  if  not, 
then  I  shall  come  to  claim  her  at  the  appointed  hour." 

For  the  sake  of  his  honour  Mong-an  consented,  but 
sorrow  settled  down  over  Breothig-ern,  and  her  eyes 
grew  wet. 

"Do  not  grieve,  fair  one,"  said  the  King,  "help  will 
surely  come." 


On  the  third  day  they  sat  waiting-,  after  having  in 
vain  sought  testimony  as  to  the  point  at  dispute 
throughout  the  territory  of  Uladh.  The  poet  came  to 
enforce  his  bond. 

"Wait  until  the  sun  has  g-one  from  the  heavens," 
said  Mongan.      "Even  yet  all  is  not  lost  to  me." 

Breothigern  and  he  sat  together  in  her  bower,  and  as 
the  hours  crept  on  her  tears  fell  faster.  The  King-  bent 
his  head  in  listening-,  of  a  sudden. 

"Be  not  sorrowful,  O  wife.  I  hear  the  iread  of  one 
who  is  coming-  to  our  aid.  His  feet  are  plashing-  now 
through  the  waters  of  the  Labrinne."  After  a  little 
while  he  spake  ag-ain. 

"Weep  not,  weep  not.  Even  now  his  feet  are  in  the 
Maine." 

And  in  another  space.  "Take  comfort  to  thee, 
gentle  heart;  I  hear  thy  deliverer  near  at  hand.  He  is 
crossing  Lough  Lene — now  he  is  over  the  Morningf- 
Star  River  between  Ui  Fidgente  and  the  Arada;  he  has 


92  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

passed  the  Suir  on  Moy-Fevin,  in  Munster;  his  mighty 
stride  hath  traversed  the  Nore,  the  Barrow,  the  Liffey, 
the  Boyne,  the  Dee,  the  Tuarthesc,  Carlingford  Lough, 
the  Nid,  the  Newry  River,  and  behold  !  he  is  scattering 
right  and  left  from  him  the  waves  of  the  Larne  Water 
in  front  of  Rathmore. " 

The  gray  dusk  of  coming  night  was  gathering  round 
the  royal  Dun  now,  and  Dalian  Forgiall  had  renewed 
his  importunities  to  the  King,  while  the  Queen  sat, 
palid  and  sad  in  her  beauty,  by  the  couch. 

"Be  not  in  such  haste,  thou  vengeful  bard,"  cried 
Mongan,  "for  it  is  given  me  to  know  that  thy  bond 
shall  be  released  from  thy  covetous  hand  ere  long.  I 
see  a  man  approaching  the  Rath  from  the  South. 
Even  now,  by  aid  of  a  headless  spear-shaft  he  carries, 
he  hath  leapt  across  the  three  ramparts  as  a  bird  might 
wing  its  flight,  and  now  is  in  the  middle  of  the  garth, 
and  now " 

The  stranger  stood  before  them.  He  was  taller  than 
the  tallest  man  in  the  kingdom,  and  the  face  of  him 
was  young  and  very  fair.  His  dark  cloak  was  in  a 
fold  about  him,  of  strange  material  and  quaintly  fash- 
ioned, and  his  hair  fell  curling  to  his  shoulders. 

"What  trouble  is  there  on  this  house?"  said  he. 

"A  wager  I  have  made,  O  stranger,  with  yonder 
poet  concerning  the  death-place  of  Fothad  Airgdech, 
the  Ardrigh.  He  hath  said  the  King  sleeps  in  Duffry, 
of  Leinster — I  say  it  is  not  so,"  answered  Mongan. 

"It  is  false  history  this  poet  hath  been  telling,"  said 
the  warrior,  "for  the  monarch  lies  in  a  grave  not  near 
Leinster  nor  yet  on  its  borders,  but  within  the  borders 
of  Uladh  instead." 

"May  sorrow  overtake  thee,"  cried  the  angry  poet, 
"for  that  thou  hast  put  contradiction  upon  me.  What 
proof  hast  thou?" 


THE   KING  OF    IRELAND'S  DEATH-PLACE.  93 

"Proof  in  plenty,"  replied  the  warrior,  "which  I 
shall  now  unfold  for  the  comfort  of  the  King.  I  was 
of  the  army  of  Fionn  Mac  Cumhaill,  and  we  were  on 
our  return  from  Alba  when  we  met  Fothad  Airgdech 
in  battle  in  the  Valley  of  Ollarva.  When  the  fight  was 
at  its  fiercest  I  saw  the  King  standing  at  the  base  of  a 
sloping  hill  watching  how  the  conflict  went.  Behind 
a  stone,  some  little  distance  off,  I  knelt,  and  taking 
careful  aim,  hurled  my  spear  at  him.  It  passed  through 
him  and.  entered  the  ground  at  the  other  side,  leaving 
its  bronze  blade  firmly  in  the  soil.  This,"  and  he  held 
forth  the  handle,  "is  the  handle  which  was  in  that 
spear.  The  bald  rock  from  which  I  threw  that  cast 
will  be  found  there,  and  the  blade  of  the  spear  is  still 
embedded  under  the  grass.  The  cairn  of  Fothad  Airg- 
dech will  be  found  near  it  a  little  towards  the  east. 
There  is  a  stone  coffin  holding  what  remains  of  his 
manhood — on  it  are  his  two  Fails  (bracelets)  of  silver, 
his  Buinne  do  At  (twisted  hoops),  and  his  Muintorc 
(neck-torque)  of  silver,  and  a  rock  stands  as  a  me- 
morial to  him,  with  an  Ogham  inscription  on  the  end 
which  is  in  the  ground.  What  is  written  on  it  is  this 
— '  Fothad  Airgdech  is  here,  who  was  killed  in  battle 
by  Caoilte,  on  the  side  of  Fionn. '  Our  warriors  buried 
him  as  I  have  described,  and  it  was  by  us  that  his 
funeral  obsequies  were  performed." 

"Caoilte,  didst  thou  say?"  cried  the  King.  "Art 
thou,  then,  that  great  warrior  of  the  Fianna  and  kins- 
man of  Fionn  Mac  Cumhaill  himself?  By  what  marvel 
hast  thou  returned  from  the  dark  halls  to  clear  our 
doubts  away?" 

"Because  the  Fianna  ever  loved  the  truth,  O  King, 
and  beyond  the  grave  we  watch  the  hills  and  vales  of 
Einnn  as  through  a  mist;  growing  glad  in  its  joys  and 


94  IN   THE   CELTIC   PAST. 

sorrowing  in  its  griefs;  so  when  doubt  arises  as  to  the 
past,  our  hearts  ache  until  it  is  granted  one  of  us  to 
resume  a  mortal  body  and  return  with  wise  words  of 
counsel  and  knowledge  to  those  whom  we  have  left  be- 
hind. Seek  ye  the  cairn  of  Fothad  Airgdech — all  shall 
be  found  as  I  have  said — the  mouth  of  Caoilte  Mac- 
Ronan  knoweth  naught  of  falsehood." 


Mongan  found  the  grave  on  the  green  slope,*  in  the 
Valley  of  Ollarva,  and  near  by  he  recognised  the  stone 
from  which  Caoilte  had  thrown  his  cast.  On  the  stone 
coffin  he  also  found  the  ornaments  of  the  King — as  the 
warrior  of  the  Fianna  had  foretold. 

He  returned  to  Moylinny — that  is  Rathmore — with 
tidings  to  the  Queen,  and  from  henceforth  there  was 
no  place  at  his  royal  board  for  Dalian  Forgiall,  nor 
ever  again  did  Breothigern  despoil  her  white  neck  and 
radiant  head  of  gold  and  jewels  at  the  poet's  pleasure. 


»  Now  known  as  Ballyboley  Hill,  in  the  Valley  of  the  Sixraile 
water,  where  the  cairn  is  to  be  seen  to  this  day,  as  well  as  the  stone — 
a  field  off — from  which  the  cast  was  thrown.  The  country  people 
guard  the  "  King  of  Ireland's  grave"  with  due  reverence,  being 
careful  not  to  uproot  a  boulder  nor  disturb  the  sloe  tree  which  rises 
sturdy  and  wide-spreading  over  all. 


J&XK&, 


ficw  Oisin  conoinced  Patrick 
m  Cleric 


How  Oisin  Convinced  Patrick  the 
Cleric. 

DAY  after  day  Oisin  kept  grumbling  at  the  fare 
set  forth  upon  the  monastery  table  until  the 
holy  men  well-nigh  lost  the  patience  that  was  a 
habit  with  them.  Patrick  alone  had  wisdom  to  deal 
gently  with  the  old  Pagan  whom  he  had  baptised  and 
housed,  for  with  the  clearer  insight  of  his  pity  he  saw 
the  woe  of  loneliness  that  racked  the  heart  of  Fionn's 
son,  and  the  dread  of  a  future  life  in  which  the  Chris- 
tian's God  might  turn  his  converted  soul  aside  from  the 
happy  land  through  which  the  Fianna  hunted  and  re- 
velled beyond  the  grave.  Therefore  Patrick  spake 
softly  to  him  as  Oisin  held  out  a  shaky  massive  hand, 
and  pointed  scornfully  at  the  large  meskin  of  butter 
and  bannock  of  bread  and  quarter  of  beef  that  were  his 
daily  rations. 

"And  is  it  this  little  portion  you  offer  me,  O  Cleric; 
me  that  am  son  of  Fionn  Mac  Cumhaill  and  Bard  and 
Warrior  of  the  Fianna?  Why,  in  my  father's  house  he 
would  have  given  a  larger  share  to  the  beggar  at  his 
door." 

"I  have  given  more  than  we  can  spare,  old  man," 
said  Patrick,  "Eat  and  be  thankful  that  it  is  not  less." 

"My  grief,"  said  Oisin,  "that  the  days  of  my  father 
are  over,  for  then  an  ivy  leaf  was  larger  than  your 
bannock  of  bread,  O  Patrick,  and  a  rowan  berry,  than 


98  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

your  meskin  of  butter,  and  a  quarter  of  a  blackbird 
than  your  quarter  of  beef.  A  man  could  eat  his  fill  nor 
fear  that  more  should  not  be  forthcoming." 

"Now  it  is  not  truth  you  would  be  saying,  Oisin,  my 
soul,"  exclaimed  Patrick,  "to  tell  me  these  things. 
Never  have  I  heard  of  such  ivy  leaves,  or  such  rowan 
berries,  or  such  great  monstrous  blackbirds,  even  in 
the  wonder  times  of  the  Fianna." 

"Yet  it  was  so,  and  I  know  where  they  can  be  found 
to  this  day.  Let  me  go,  O  Patrick,  with  my  dog, 
Bran's  pup,  and  a  boy  to  guide  me  since  my  sight  is 
dim,  and  I  shall  return  to  your  cell  with  all  three  of 
these  marvels  you  deny." 

"Then  go,"  said  Patrick,  "go,  Oisin;  and  oh! 
grumbling  old  man,  it  is  empty-handed  you  will  be 
coming  back  to  me." 

Patrick  gave  him  the  boy-guide  and  brought  to  him 
his  dog,  of  which  Bran,  the  hound  of  Fionn,  had  been 
the  mother.  Now  these  dogs  possessed  a  sagacity 
truly  marvellous  and  an  affectionateness  that  almost 
rivalled  human  feeling.  The  Fianna  believed  that  Bran 
had  not  always  been  a  four-footed  animal,  but  in 
earlier  times  was  a  man,  handsome,  supple,  and  strong, 
the  son  of  Fair  Fergus,  the  King  of  Ulster.  He  had 
fallen  under  enchantment,  and  became  the  swift,  keen- 
sighted  hound,  body-guard  and  faithful  companion  of 
Fionn. 

So  it  was  accompanied  by  the  pup  of  this  noble 
hound  and  a  little  boy,  that  Oisin,  half-blind  and  slow 
of  step,  with  the  weight  of  ages  bowing  him  down,  set 
forth  upon  his  journey.  They  wandered  southwards 
until  they  reached  the  hill  called  Cnocan-an-Ein-fionn> 
and  climbed  its  slope  to  the  place  where  is  the  cave 
It  was  barred  by  an  enormous  boulder. 


HOW   OIS1N    CONVINCED    PATRICK   THE    CLERIC.  99 

"Roll  away  the  stone  that  is  there,  little  boy,"  said 
Oisin,  "so  that  I  may  enter." 

The  boy  laughed.  "Ten  men  could  not  do  it,  old 
man,  for  it  is  a  great  heavy  stone  and  firm  in  the 
ground." 

"Lead  me  close  to  it."  The  boy  took  the  groping 
hand  of  Oisin  and  led  him  to  the  stone.  Then  the  old 
warrior  made  an  easy  thrust  at  it,  and  the  huge  block 
rolled  aside,  leaving  the  entrance  to  the  cave  open. 

"Go  into  the  cave,  little  boy,  and  tell  me  what  you 
see  there,"  Oisin  commanded. 

The  boy  passed  through  timorously,  holding  his 
breath  for  fear  of  the  shadows.  He  gazed  round  in 
awe. 

"I  see  a  great  silver  horn  hanging  on  the  wall,  old 
man,"  he  cried. 

"Bring  it  to  me,  little  boy." 

"Three  men  could  not  lift  it,  old  man,  and  it  will  not 
even  move  at  my  touch." 

"Come  out  and  lead  me  to  it." 

Then  Oisin  took  the  huge  horn  down  from  the  wall 
and  held  it  lovingly.  It  was  the  Dord  Fianna — the 
hunting  horn  of  the  Fianna. 

"Alas,"  he  moaned,  "many  a  time  have  I  sounded 
the  hunting-call  on  thee,  O  horn  of  many  memories. 
Oft  did  my  father  Fionn  waken  the  echoes  with  thy 
music  from  Loch  Lein  of  the  beauty  places  to  Tory  of 
the  Kings.  My  grief  that  Oisin  should  live  to  sound 
thee  and  not  one  of  the  Fianna  left  in  Eirinn  to  hear." 

Standing  on  the  hill-top,  from  whence  the  sound 
travelled  far  and  wide,  he  blew  upon  it  a  strong  clear 
note. 

From  the  west  a  flock  of  birds  came  sweeping  like  a 
cloud.     The  boy  cried  out — 


100 


IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 


"It  is  a  great  flock  of  blackbirds  that  are  flying  to- 
wards us,  old  man.  They  will  be  on  the  hill-top  ere 
long." 

"Do  you  see  a  fine  bird  among  them,  little  boy?" 
"No,  old  man,  not  to  say  a  fine  bird." 
Oisin  raised  the  Dord  Fianna  to  his  lips  and  blew  a 
second  time. 

A  larger  crowd  of  birds  came  winging  in  response. 
"Is  there  a  fine  bird  among  these,  little  boy?"  Oisin 
demanded. 

"No,"  said  the  boy,  "not  to  say  a  fine  bird." 
A  third  time  the  music  of  the  Dord   Fianna  pealed 
from    the    hill    crest    over    the    woods  and  beyond  the 
shining  rivers  that  threaded  the  glens  and  meadows  far 
below. 

"What  do  you  see  now,  little  boy?"  The  boy 
shrieked  in  terror.  "I  see  a  huge  bird  larger  than  a 
cow  making  for  us.  Let  us  hide,  old  man,  he  is  coming 
swiftly." 

"Loose  the  pup,"  said  Oisin. 

The  lad  did  so  with  trembling  hands,  and  the  dog 
leaped  forward  at  the  monstrous  bird.  For  hours  they 
fought  there  on  the  summit,  clawing,  biting,  rending 
each  other.  At  last  the  bird  lay  dead  with  claws  up- 
turned to  the  sky. 

"Lead  me  to  the  bird,  little  boy,"  said  Oisin. 
But  suddenly  the  dog  gave  a  deep  howl  of  rage,  and, 
mad  from  the  fearful  fight  he  had  undergone,  rushed 
towards  Oisin  with  his  mouth  wide  open.  From  his 
head  a  thick  cloud  of  steam  arose,  and  his  eyes  were 
like  moving  balls  of  red  fire  in  their  sockets 

"The  pup  is  coming  towards  us,  old  man,"  shouted 
the  boy  in  a  panic  of  fear.  "The  madness  is  on  him 
and  the  foam  falling  from  his  lips.  Oh,  let  us  hide. 
Run,  old  man,  run." 


HOW    OIS1N    CONVINCED    PATRICK   THE    CLERIC. 


101 


"Nay,  little  boy,"  said  Oisin,  "I  will  not  run.  But 
the  dog  will  kill  us  unless  we  kill  him  first.  Take  this 
ball  of  lead  and  hurl  it  into  his  mouth." 

"O,  I  cannot,"  cried  the  boy.     "I  am  afraid." 

"Then  place  me  in  his  path,  little  boy." 

So,  placed  in  the  dog's  path,  Oisin  met  his  rush,  and 
hurling  the  leaden  ball  with  accurate  aim  it  flew  into 
his  open  mouth  and  throat.  The  dog  gave  a  gasp  and 
fell  dead. 

Then  going  up  to  the  huge  blackbird,  Oisin  and  the 
boy  disjointed  him,  taking  a  quarter  of  him  as  a  proof 
to  Patrick  the  Cleric.  They  found  the  rowan  berry 
and  the  ivy  leaf  in  the  woods  of  Ballyvalley  down  by 
the  Shannon  River. 

Patrick  looked  long  at  the  three  proofs  of  Oisin 's 
bringing. 

"Now  I  shall  ever  believe,  Oisin  my  soul,  in  the 
truth  of  the  Fianna,  though  their  God  was  not  my  God 
nor  their  ways  my  ways.  Come,  old  weary  man,  t) 
the  table.  Henceforth  your  share  shall  be  three  times 
greater  than  before." 

"Three-quarters  of  beef,  three  bannocks  of  bread, 
and  three  meskins  of  butter?"  queried  Oisin. 

"Even  so,  old  man,"  said  Patrick. 


ccs>frW\vvs>xsx>«xv:\x>coa 


Che  Cast  Battle  of  liiacD  or 
the  Clanna  Rurp. 


The  Last  Battle  of  Iliach  of  the 
Clanna  Rury. 

THE  war-trumpet  of  Queen  Meave  has  sent  forth 
its  challenge  from  the  borders  of  Uladh,  where 
she  lies  encamped  with  her  vast  army  on  its 
march  of  invasion  into  the  Northern  province.  She 
has  come  to  reave  the  Brown  Bull  of  Coolney  from  its 
pasturage  and  carry  it — the  pride  of  the  foray — back 
with  her  to  the  valleys  of  Connacht  as  a  rival  to  the 
famous  White  Bull  which  her  husband,  Ailill,  numbers 
amongst  his  kingly  herds.  Her  challenge  had  pene- 
trated to  the  Court  of  the  Red  Branch  at  Emania, 
where  Conor,  the  King,  reigned  nobly  and  well,  but 
alas  !  it  found  the  son  of  Nessa  and  his  brave  warriors 
lying  in  a  state  of  torpidity  under  the  spells  of  a  woman 
whom  they  had,  once  upon  a  time,  wronged.  Macha 
was  her  name,  and  sadly  did  the  Ultonians  rue  the  day 
on  which  they  condemned  her  to  a  trial  of  speed  with 
the  swiftest  chariot  of  the  King.  Her  husband's  life 
was  the  price  of  the  wife's  fleet-footedness,  and  when 
the  woman,  having  won,  sank  down,  dying  in  giving 
birth  to  her  twin  children,  before  Conor,  she  laid  a 
bitter  curse  upon  him  and  his  knights  because  of  this 
evil  eric  they  had  devised  for  her  undoing.  And  the 
curse  had  wrought  itself  out  in  the  strange  debility 
which  had  overtaken  them  year  after  year  since  that 
day  at  the  same  fateful  time;  so  that  now,  when  the  red 


106  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

spectre  of  war  came  knocking  upon  their  gates  and 
shouting  the  battle-cry  of  Connacht  in  their  unheeding 
ears,  they  reclined  upon  their  skin-covered  couches, 
half  asleep,  nor  made  a  move  towards  the  spear  and 
shield  that  dangled  overhead  against  the  wall;  nor  did 
even  one  listless  hand  stretch  gropingly  for  the  short 
sharp  sword  that  held  its  place  in  the  leather  belt  above 
the  thigh  of  each  fallen  warrior. 

Evil,  in  truth,  was  the  deed  that  had  brought  about 
this  spell  on  the  flower  of  the  Red  Branch  chivalry;  and 
evil  was  the  curse  that  had  left  the  borders  of  Uladh 
unguarded  to  the  encroachment  of  a  hostile  clan. 
Only  the  youths  who  were  in  training  in  the  great 
military  school  of  Emania — children  of  those  spell- 
bound chieftains — bright-faced  lads  with  flowing  hair 
and  white  unwounded  limbs,  and  the  very  old  fighting 
men  whose  day  of  prowess  was  over  long  since,  were 
left  to  meet  the  onslaught  of  the  fierce  fair  Queen  and 
her  wild  tribes  from  the  Western  kingdom. 

Yet,  of  those  who  were  untouched  in  Uladh  by  the 
curse  of  Macha  but  two  came  swiftly  towards  the  Ford 
of  Watching  at  the  challenge  of  the  Connacht  maraud- 
ers. One  was  in  the  flower  of  his  youth,  smooth- 
skinned  and  blue-eyed.  His  golden  curls  fell  down 
upon  his  young  shoulders  and  blew  backwards  on  the 
wind  with  the  speed  of  his  approach.  He  wore  a  shirt 
and  tunic  of  saffron  colour  closely  fastened  around  his 
body  with  a  strong  supple  belt  of  leather,  and  over  this 
was  his  battle-girdle,  also  of  hard-tanned  leather, 
which  encircled  him  from  his  hips  to  his  arm-pits,  so 
that  neither  javelins,  nor  sharp-pointed  irons,  nor 
spears,  nor  darts  could  pierce  through  it,  but  bounded 
away  from  it  as  if  from  a  rock. 

In  his  right  hand  he  held  a  tall  bronze  spear,  and  on 


LAST  BATTLE  OF  ILIACH  OF  THE  CLANNA  RURY.       107 

his  left  arm  a  great  curved  black-red  shield  with  a 
scalloped  keen-edged  rim,  so  sharp  that  whenever  he 
used  it  as  a  weapon  he  cut  equally  with  it  as  with  his 
spear  or  his  sword.  As  he  stood  up  straight  in  his 
chariot  behind  the  flying  horses,  which  guided  by  the 
unerring  hand  of  Laegh,  his  charioteer,  bore  him  like 
a  lightning  shaft  towards  the  Ford.  Queen  Maeve 
leaning  forward  in  her  chariot-seat  on  the  opposite 
brink  of  the  river,  turned  her  proud  eyes,  full  of  ques- 
tioning, on  a  tall  dark  youth  who  stood  near. 

"Is  it  but  a  boy  they  send  to  stay  my  progress,"  she 
exclaimed  in  scornful  wonder.  "Dost  thou  know  his 
name,  Ferdia?  Thou  hadst  knowledge  of  the  Ultonian 
lads  in  thy  younger  days." 

"I  know  him,  O  Queen,  and  thou  wilt  find  him  a  foe- 
man  worthy  of  thy  steel.  Setanta,  the  son  of  Sual- 
tainn,  was  his  name  ere  he  was  my  comrade  at  the 
Military  School  of  the  Lady  Scathach  over  the  seas  in 
Alba.  But  afterwards,  because  of  a  wondrous  feat,  in 
which  he  tore  the  watch-dog  of  Culann,  the  Armourer 
of  King  Conor,  asunder  when  it  strove  to  prevent  his 
entrance  into  the  Smith's  house  in  the  wake  of  the 
King,  he  hath  been  called  Cuchulainn,  that  is  the  Hound 
of  Culann.  His  strength  shall  yet  be  felt  in  this  battle 
as  I  and  others  have  felt  it  in  the  wrestle,  and  his  feats 
of  championship  are  many  and  marvellous." 

"Yet  he  is  but  a  boy,"  repeated  the  Queen  softly, 
"a  boy,  and  oh  !  the  pity  that  against  him  our  javelins 
shall  fly,  and  our  blue  sharp-pointed  spears  be  set. 
Can  he  be  won  to  us,  O  Ferdia?" 

"Nay,  nay,  my  Queen,  he  is  pledged  to  Conor,  who 
is  his  mother's  brother;  and  Cuchulainn  was  never 
known  to  forsake  his  friend,  or  break  his  plighted 
word." 


108  IN    THE   CELTIC   PAST. 

While  all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  young  hero,  the 
rumbling  noise  of  another  chariot,  hastily  driven, 
reached  their  ears  across  the  Ford.  Then  a  great 
mocking  shout  of  laughter  rose  from  Maeve  and  her 
attendant  warriors,  and  in  a  moment  it  had  spread 
throughout  the  army.  A  second  champion  had  come 
to  guard  the  borders  of  Uladh,  and  it  was  at  his  ap- 
pearance their  mirth  had  broken  forth. 

He  drove  forward  to  the  margin  of  the  Ford  beside 
Cuchulainn,  and  stayed  his  horses  in  full  view  of  the  in- 
vaders. Their  laughter  rang  louder  and  longer  at 
nearer  sight  of  him. 

Iliach,  the  Son  of  Cas,  of  the  Clanna  Rury,  was  his 
name,  and  in  his  youth  he  had  been  one  of  the  chief 
fighters  of  that  royal  race.  But  now,  alas,  he  had 
grown  very  old,  and  being  exempted  by  age  from  ac- 
tive warfare  he  had  settled  down  into  ways  of  peace. 
As  he  sat  by  the  fireside  in  his  caiseal,  he  fought  once 
more,  in  memory,  the  battles  of  his  youth  and  man- 
hood. The  sword  that  he  never  hoped  to  wield  again 
rusted  in  its  scabbard,  his  spears  swung  idly  to  and  fro 
upon  the  wall,  the  two  old  steeds  that  had  borne  him 
into  the  core  of  conflict  many  a  time  and  oft,  were 
turned  out  loose  for  life  into  the  green,  wide-spreading 
meadows  round  his  home,  where  the  river  rippled  be- 
tween high  banks  of  sheltering  trees,  and  the  battle- 
car  which  had  withstood  the  dint  of  many  a  shock  in 
his  fierce  fighting  days  was  lying,  almost  decaying, 
hard  by  in  a  corner  of  his  bawn. 

Yet,  when  Iliach  heard  of  the  hostile  descent  upon 
Uladh,  the  old  war-anger  wakened  in  his  heart  again, 
until  he  felt  that  the  s  trength  had  come  back  to  his  arm 
and  the  keen,  far-seeing  visions  to  his  dimmed  and 
weary  eye.     He  called  his   clansmen  around  him  from 


LAST  BATTLE  OF  ILIACH  OF  THE  CLANNA  RURY.      109 

the  hig-h  hills  and  deep  g-lens  of  that  Northern  tribe- 
land,  exhorting-  them  to  follow  whither  he  led,  that  the 
Clanna  Rury  mig-ht  stand,  as  it  had  often  stood  before, 
for  the  defence  of  Uladh  in  the  face  of  the  enemy. 

And  while  the  clansmen  were  gathering  and  making- 
ready,  the  old  chieftain,  impatient  for  the  fray,  set  out 
alone.  He  had  caused  the  venerable  speckled  steeds 
to  be  yoked  once  more  to  the  shattered  chariot,  which 
had  neither  cushions  nor  skins  to  it,  for  in  his  earlier 
days  a  warrior  looked  upon  these  as  luxuries  un- 
befitting- his  manly  hardihood.  He  slung-  over  his 
shoulder  his  rough  dark  shield  of  iron  with  its  thick 
rim  of  silver,  and  round  his  waist,  by  its  leathern 
girdle,  he  fastened  his  gray-tilted  heavy-striking  sword 
to  his  left  side.  In  his  hand  he  took  his  shaky-headed, 
many-g-apped  spears,  and  because  that  his  armament 
was  ancient  and  scanty,  his  people  filled  the  chariot 
around  him  with  stones  and  rocks  and  great  flags  that 
he  mig-ht,  with  these,  defend  himself  to  the  last. 

It  was  the  sight  of  this  shaggy,  strangely-equipped 
champion  beside  the  young  Cuchulainn  that  awakened 
the  mirth  of  the  Olne-Machta.  Great,  indeed,  was 
their  merriment  as  he  waved  his  rusty  spear  threaten- 
ingly across  the  water,  and  Maeve's  shrill  womanly 
laughter  rang-  clearest  of  all. 

"  A  boy  and  a  dotard — Uladh  is,  in  truth,  well 
g-uarded."  She  stood  up  in  her  seat  and  looked  round 
upon  her  immense  army  which  darkened  the  plain  as 
far  as  eye  could  reach. 

"The  Bull  of  Coolney  is  mine,  O  Ailill,"  she  cried  to 
her  husband,  "won  without  blood  or  loss,  only  by  this 
pleasant  journey  from  our  own  territories  to  those  of 
King  Conor.     Let  us  cross  the  Ford." 

But,    straight    as    a  young  poplar,  on  the  other  side 


112 


IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 


bounded  forward  till  it  reached  the  feet  of  Cuchulainn, 
who  saw  it  without  ceasing  one  moment  in  his  terrible 
slaughter  of  his  enemies. 

"For  thee,  and  for  thee,"  he  cried  loudly,  "for  thee, 
and  for  thee,  O  brave  chieftain,  who  hath  been  my 
mainstay,  I  shall  deal  havoc  on  those  who  have  slain 
thee."  And  the  clansmen  of  Connacht  fell  as  grass 
falls  beneath  the  scythe  of  the  mower  around  him,  be- 
cause of  his  pity  for  the  old  warrior  whose  last  battle 
was  done. 


In  the  Northern  Glen  on  the  sea-swept  eastern  coast 
of  ITlsadh  the  Clanna  Rury  raised  the  caoine  for  their 
chieftain,  and  over  his  body,  which  had  been  tenderly 
conveyed  from  the  Ford  of  Watching,  they  raised  the 
monumental  mound. 


Cbe  Red  WDistler, 


The  Red  Whistler. 

IN  the  land  of  Eirinn  there  was  no  palace  so  wonder- 
ful and  so  beautiful  as  the  Great  House  of  the 
Thousands  of  Soldiers  which  stood  within  the 
Rath  of  the  Kings  on  the  gentle  green  slope  of  Tara. 
Cormac  Mac  Art  had  rebuilt  it,  since  the  last  burning, 
with  added  magnificence,  until  it  had  become  as  a  vast 
gem  with  the  glitter  of  silver  and  bronze  and  precious 
polished  woods.  Red  yew  carved  and  emblazoned  with 
gold  made  the  door-posts  and  the  interior  of  the  hall; 
bronze  shutters  were  to  every  window;  vessels  of  gold 
and  silver  stood  tall  upon  the  hospitable  board,  and 
over  the  sitting-place  of  each  warrior  hung  his  well- 
kept  shining  arms  of  valour. 

Cormac  the  King  was  there  in  his  royal  seat,  and 
beside  him  Fionn  Mac  Cumhaill.  Oisin  swept  his 
harp-strings  into  rousing  battle-strains,  yet  the  King 
heard  not;  his  ear  was  bent  for  the  fall  of  fairy  feet  that 
came  southward  from  Slieve  Cullain,  and  his  heart  was 
sad  for  the  coming  destruction  of  his  noble  house. 

Now,  the  manner  of  the  burning  of  Tara  was  this  : 
Once  a  year,  on  the  eve  of  Samhain,  the  Tuatha  De 
Danaan,  who  had  been  vanquished  and  driven  from  the 
land  over  which  they  once  ruled  into  rath  and  hollow 
hillside,  where  they  had  become  expert  in  enchantment 
and  subtle  magic  arts,  came  forth  into  the  world  again 
with  power  over  their  conquerors.  Naught  could  with- 
stand their  fairy  craft,  nor  could  all  the  searching  of 
the   stars    inspire   the    Druids    as    to   how  this  superb 


116  IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

palace  might  be  saved  from  the  pitiless  tongues  of 
flame  blown  against  it  by  the  Dedanaan  people. 

It  was  Midna,  the  chief  enchanter,  who  sent  his  son 
Ailinn  every  year  against  Tara.  He  came  out  from 
Slieve  Cullain  in  Ulster,  whistling  the  music  of  sleep 
on  his  fedan,  and  none  who  listened  could  keep  his  eye- 
lids open.  Kings,  warriors,  and  serving-men  sank  at 
the  table  or  in  the  council-hall,  and  in  the  dawn  of  day 
they  wakened  unhurt  amid  the  ashes  of  the  ruined 
splendour. 

Cormac  had  sought  advice  from  Fionn  Mac  Cumhaill 
as  to  how  this  disaster  could  be  averted,  and  Fionn, 
putting  his  Thumb  of  Knowledge  to  his  mouth  said 
straightway, 

"I  shall  seek  Fiach  Mac  Conga,  who  was  a  brother- 
in-arms  of  my  father.  A  magic  spear  he  hath,  and 
wisdom  to  guide  us  aright." 

Said  Fiach  Mac  Conga  to  Fionn,  giving  him  the 
magic  spear,  "When  you  hear  the  fairy  music  and  the 
sweet-stringed  tympan  and  the  melodious-sounding 
fedan,  uncover  the  blade  of  this  spear  and  apply  its 
sharp  edge  to  your  forehead.  Sleep  will  then  keep  far 
from  you,  until  Ailinn  comes  within  reach.  Follow 
him,  and  he  will  die  like  mortal  man  through  the 
piercing  of  its  flying  point." 

This  was  the  comfort  Fionn  brought  to  Cormac  as 
they  waited  on  the  fateful  night  for  the  coming  of  the 
Red  Whistler.  Ears  were  strained  in  listening,  and 
the  keen,  swift-glancing  eyes  of  war-worn  nobles  grew 
shadowy  with  anticipation. 

Slowly  and  sweetly,  through  the  starlight,  the  music 
came  down  the  bare  arches  of  the  wood. 

"I  hear  my  mother's  voice,"  said  an  old  man,  speak- 
ing before  the  King  could  speak. 


THE    RED    WHISTLER.  117 

"And  I  the  last  sob  of  my  son  who  fell  in  battle," 
said  another. 

"Ah!"  cried  Cormac,  hiding  his  paling  face  in  his 
robe,  "It  is  a  woman's  singing  voice  I  hear,  and  I  see 
the  shine  of  a  woman's  hair  :  my  first  love,  and  my 
Heart's  Delight,  who  is  dead." 

In  the  eyes  of  the  Queen  horror  struggled  with 
drowsiness  as  an  old  memory  rose  and  taunted  her. 

Nearer  and  nearer  the  silvern  haunting  strains  ap- 
proached. Heavier  the  sleep  fell  upon  shrinking  eye- 
lids. 

Said  Coilte  slumberously  : 

"It  is  a  child  I  am,  and  my  head  is  laid  against  my 
father's  knee."  He  stretched  his  huge  frame  upon  the 
yielding  rushes. 

And  Oisin,  with  groping  fingers  across  his  harp- 
strings — 

"I  have  a  vision  ....  her  eyes  speak  ....  she 
calls  my  name  ....  I  come  ....  I  come  ....  It 
is  the  Land  of  Youth  ....   I  come." 

His  voice  trailed  off  into  forgetfulness. 

"  Hark,  hark,  it  is  the  Dord  Fianna  and  the  hunting- 
song,"  whispered  Goll  Mac  Morna  in  his  beard,  and 
he,  too,  passed  away  into  dreaming. 

So,  one  by  one,  the  warriors  listened  and  sank  help- 
lessly to  the  ground.  To  each  the  fedan-player  bore  a 
message,  and  where  one  saw  sorrow,  another  saw  joy. 

Some  there  were  who  saw  fear  only;  fear  of  a  moving 
battle-place  and  spouting  blood.  Those  shuddered  as 
the  fairy  sleep  overtook  them. 

"Pierce  me,  O  Spear,"  cried  Fionn,  "that  the  en- 
chantment may  be  withstood." 

Plaintive  and  wondrously  sweet,  like  an  echo  over 
moonlit  waves,  he  heard  tender  tones  calling. 


118  IN   THE    CELTIC    PAST. 

"It  is  Berach  the  Freckled,  whom  I  once  wooed,"  he 
groaned.  "Her  voice  was  ever  sweeter  than  the  linnet 
in  the  springtime." 

Around  him  it  played.  His  grey  hair  was  stirred  by 
it;  he  felt  the  ripples  of  music  on  his  face. 

"Deeper,  deeper,  O  Spear.  Bring  blood  between 
my  eyelids  lest  I  fail."  And  he  drove  the  point  into 
his  high  wrinkled  forehead. 

The  music  was  below  and  above  him  now,  floating 
into  his  heart,  filling  his  brain,  bearing  his  soul  away 
on  wings. 

"O  Spear,  leap  out  of  my  hand  that  is  afraid  to  pierce 
deep  enough.  Pierce  thou,  O  Spear!"  and  he  loosed 
his  hold. 

It  sank  between  his  brows  in  a  swift  bound.  The 
red  tide  came  flowing. 

Fionn  thrust  the  stream  aside  with  one  hand,  and 
saw,  nearing  the  Royal  House,  the  fairy  Whistler. 

He  was  clad  in  scarlet  from  head  to  heel.  His  hair, 
coal-black,  came  curling  from  beneath  a  scarlet  cap, 
and  his  berry -tinted,  beardless  lips  were  curved  around 
his  fedan. 

As  he  played  flames  came  and  went  with  his  breath 
on  the  air.  So  near  were  they  at  times  that  the  door- 
posts were  licked  with  fire.     Fionn  waited. 

The  Whistler  crossed  the  threshold,  and  as  he  moved 
on  the  wavering  flames  touched  Goll  Mac  Morna's 
bratta. 

Then  Fionn  sprang  up  with  a  loud  cry,  which  echoed 
like  peals  of  thunder  in  that  hall  of  sleep.  The  red 
figure  before  him  seemed  made  of  fire  as  he  chased  Tt 
through  the  night.  Down  the  leafless  wood,  over 
brown  sodden  bogs  in  which  its  passing  shadow  danced 
and  glimmered,  he  tracked  it.     By  its  magic  potency  it 


THE   RED   WHISTLER.  119 

crossed,  unwet,  the  wide  shining-  river  of  Boyne,  where 
Angus  dwelt. 

It  bounded  like  a  blood-soaked  arrow  from  end  to 
end  of  the  grey -green  valleys,  and  glowed  as  a  beacon 
on  the  high-crested  hills.  Close  did  Fionn  follow  un- 
afraid. He  held  the  spear  in  his  right  hand  ready  for 
the  cast;  he  shook  the  beads  of  sweat  from  his  hair, 
which  strayed  backward  on  the  wind,  and  on  his  lips 
was  a  prayer  to  the  gods  of  his  fathers. 

Faster,  faster,  O  son  of  Cumhaill,  and  noble  chief- 
tain of  the  Fianna.  Faster,  oh  faster,  for  the  sombre 
crown  of  Slieve  Cullain  lowers  through  the  dark,  and 
the  Tuatha  de  Danaan  are  ready  to  bring  thee  captive 
to  their  underworld. 

Faster,  oh,  faster.  The  spear  leaps,  bounds,  pants 
between  thy  fingers;  its  slender  length  quivers  with  life; 
its  point  is  as  a  star  showing  thee  the  way. 

Then  Fionn  put  forth  his  hunting  speed.  Swifter 
than  a  deer  he  dashed  over  the  rocky  ground,  wary  as 
a  hawk  might  swoop  upon  its  prey  he  tracked  the  Red 
Whistler  to  his  lair,  and  when  the  rock-door  slowly 
opened  in  the  rugged  side  of  Slieve  Cullain  he  lifted 
high  the  hand  that  held  the  spear,  and  let  it  go.  It 
hissed  and  glittered  in  its  passage  through  the  air,  and 
still  hissing  and  glittering  it  struck  the  Red  Whistler, 
piercing  him  to  the  marrow.  He  fell,  face  downwards, 
half  in  and  half  out  of  the  fairy  doorway. 

Then  Fionn  drew  nigh  cautiously,  lest  the  Tuatha  de 
Danaan  might  weave  their  spells  about  him;  and  he 
pulled  the  spear  from  the  body  of  Ailinn.       When  he 


120 


IN    THE    CELTIC    PAST. 


looked  at  it  there  was  no  blood  upon  the  point,  only  a 
moisture  that  shone  with  changing  hues  as  dew  might 
under  the  silver  glow  of  a  summer  moon. 


Thereafter  Cormac  Mac  Art  had  peace  and  joy  in 
Tara.  The  bards  sang  the  praises  of  Fionn,  and  from 
the  meshes  of  her  long  fair  hair  Princess  Grainne  gazed 
upon  him.  The  wonder  in  her  eyes  was  very  sweet, 
so  sweet  that  he  felt  the  quickening  of  his  pulses  as  in 
the  remote  passionate  days  of  his  youth." 

"Let  her  be  mine,  O  King,"  he  said,  and  Cormac 
replied, 

"Even  so." 

Thereat  Grainne  smiled  radiantly  in  consent,  not 
dreaming  yet  of  a  young  brown  face  which  was  to  make 
her  destiny  and  give  to  Eirinn  the  tenderest  love-tale 
that  was  ever  told. 


—» »  ^SJJfJS^,. 


-£Z_3EL 


235563 


